


The Consequences of Free Fall

by Walkerbaby



Series: The Cynthia Baxter Chronicles [1]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:56:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 41,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an undercover WPC is found murdered it's up to Sam and Gene to find out why. And because this is Sam of course someone from his future/past is going to show up-- this time in the form of the SOCO chemist who taught him to love forensics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Sam woke groggily to the sound of the ringing phone and reached for it impulsively. When his hand was half way there he stopped and remembered where he was. He pulled his hand back and rolled over onto his side facing Gene.

“Hunt,” he heard the other man mumble. An arm snaked into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, wrapping around his back and pulling him closer. “Right. I’ll grab Tyler,” the hand reached down and grasped his arse lightly. “We’ll meet you there Ray.”

“What’s happened?” Sam uttered sleepily as he shifted into the warmth that was Gene’s chest. He didn’t want to know, not really. Certainly as a police officer he needed to know but for the first time in his life Sam didn’t want to know. Let Ray and Chris handle it. It was 5:30 in the morning, the room was cold and the bed was warm.

“Dead girl found on Baker Road. I told Ray we’d meet him and Chris there.” Gene answered as he pulled his hand away and sat on the edge of the bed.

“We got anything else?” Sam scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand.  
“Not a thing,” Gene retorted. “They just got the call themselves.”

“Right,” Sam agreed as he stumbled to the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. “Guess we’re going to Baker Road then.”

“Sorry Sammy,” Gene sighed and lit a fag. “Looks like no early morning shag before work.”

“Early morning shag?” Sam glared at him as he stepped into his trousers. “You really have a romantic side Gene. Just can’t keep the hearts and flowers in can you?”  
“At 5:30 in the morning?” Gene glared back as he started to dress himself. “What do you call it?”

“Oh,” Sam shook his head as he pulled on a shirt. “I dunno - sex, intercourse, fucking?”

“First two sounds like a health and hygiene class and shagging’s a more polite word to use for it than fucking. I was trying to keep your delicate sensibilities in mind.”

Sam finished buttoning his shirt and sighed in exasperation. One of his boots was near the door but where had the other one gone? Right, under the corner of the bed. Getting on all fours he reached an arm under the bedframe and snagged his left boot. “Love making perhaps?” He suggested. “Making love, the physical and carnal act of expressing genuine emotions for each other in a monogamous and committed relationship between two adults?”

“Repeat that,” Gene snorted as he stepped into his loafers, stuffed his wallet in his pocket beside his flask and glared at Sam.

“I said making love,” Sam clarified. “It’s what adults do when they’re not fucking random people.”

“There you go using that word again,” Gene shook his head. “Right mouth you’ve got on you this morning. Kiss your mother with that filth?”

“What word?” Sam grabbed his jacket and followed Gene down the stairs and toward the door. “Making love or fucking?”

Gene just stared at him as he stomped to the Cortina. “Making love sounds like something a poofter would say.”

“Considering our activities last night,” Sam shrugged as he slid into the passenger seat and reached for the ‘ oh shit handle’ Gene had so thoughtfully had reinforced for him.

“Shut it Tyler,” the Guv snapped and Sam realized that the transformation had taken place again. Once again he had missed it. One moment the man next to him was Gene Hunt, best friend, lover, and the reason he’d returned to 1973. The next he was the Guv, DCI Gene Hunt, superior officer, hard ass, and still the reason he’d returned. The Guv always kept a clear distinction between work or the Railway Arms, where he remained the Guv, and private, where he could be Gene and Sam could be Sam and they could just be together.

“Yes Guv,” he sulked slightly. He always hated the first few moments after the transition. Always regretted not getting at least one more kiss before it took place.

The Cortina roared to life then and Sam remembered why he’d given up coffee in the morning. He no longer needed it with the way Gene drove. “You know Guv,” he tried his most reasonable voice. “We don’t have to test the Cortina for speed every time we take it out. It’s a good car, everyone knows it. Killer car really. Might be a more enjoyable ride though if say, we weren’t hurtling to our death?”

“Sit still, shut up and hold tight ya jessy,” the Guv retorted. “This is the whole reason I joined the police force.”

“To drive a Cortina?” Sam asked.

“No, to drive a Cortina fast and never have to worry about tickets,” Gene snapped.

“Good to see you’ve reached your goals Guv.” Sam nodded. “Here’s to thinking outside the box to find solutions.”

“Quit bellyaching Tyler. You’ll want to save that energy up for the case. I’m sure you’ll need it to complain.”


	2. Chapter 2

The car screeched to a halt just outside the police cordon and Sam took a moment to flex the life back into his fingers.  Try as he might it was still difficult getting used to taking corners on two wheels. 

“Come on Gladys, quit checking your manicure and lets go get a peek at our dead girl.” 

“Right,” Sam answered.  “What are all these buildings then?  Warehouses?” 

“Mostly,” Guv answered.  “Turning the whole area into cheap flats though.  Call it neighborhood revitalization.” 

“Hmm,” Sam shrugged.  “Might have to come over and check it out.  Get out of that crap sit and sleep.” 

“Need a place of your own Tyler?” The Guv raised an eyebrow and Sam flushed.  “How long has it been since you’ve been over to that shitty little rat hole of yours?” 

“Went over last week for a few more changes of clothes,” Sam smirked.  It wasn’t like Gene to tease about their personal life once he’d transitioned each morning into being ‘The Guv’. Sam was prepared to enjoy it, even if it involved a dead girl. 

“Well, well!” The Guv announced as he stepped into the group of men huddled around the body.

“Forensics has already made it, what the hell?” 

Sam followed behind and stopped short just behind the Guv.  Forensics was on the scene before they were for once.  He tried to hide his smile at the amazement on the other men’s faces.  Forensics looked as if she’d come up to maybe his shoulder and a good strong wind would knock her over. 

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Gene snapped. 

“You must be DCI Hunt,” the woman nodded her head in his direction.  “I’d shake your hand but I think you’d prefer if I didn’t,” she glanced down at the blood on her gloves. 

“I repeat woman, who the bleeding hell are you?” 

“Cynthia Baxter, with forensics, I live down that way a bit.  They called me to meet you on the scene.  That must be DI Tyler behind you.  I was told it was him I should try to work with Sir, since you aren’t a fan of forensics.  What did they tell me you called it ‘gay boy science’?”

“But you’re a plonk,” Gene stuttered. 

“Actually no,” she shrugged.  “I’m a forensic analyst.  Been here about a year.  Primarily work in the meager lab facilities we have.  Like I said, they called me because I live a few streets over.” 

“Cynthia Baxter?” Sam repeated.  “You’re Cynthia Baxter?” This wasn’t right, he thought to himself. Cynthia Baxter was, well she was old.  Well she had been when Sam knew her.  He’d worked on the last case she did before she retired.  Had been the one to ask her out of retirement to work the Chelsea Wainright case.  Sam grimaced at the memory and shoved it from his mind. 

The woman kneeling next to the body though, she wasn’t old.  She was young, younger than Sam at least.  30 maybe?  No black business suits and severe buns either.  She looked more relaxed.  She looks like one of the analysts, Sam reminded himself, not an administrator.  He shook his head and tried to focus. 

“And you’re DI Tyler,” the woman answered.

“That’s right.  Now that you’ve caught up with the rest of the class DI Tyler perhaps you’d like me to tell you a little bit about your scene?”  No, he amended, it was Cynthia Baxter all right. 

“Think the Boss has found himself a girl.” Ray whispered loudly to Chris.  Sam saw her eyes flick over to Ray and saw the subtle shake of her head.  “Bet she’s giving him one hell of a stiffy.”

“Right, body.” She announced.  “If we’re all up to speed on the fact that yes forensics is here, yes I am in fact a woman, and DI Tyler knows his own name and is apparently in need of a girl?”

Sam watched her look around and could see the Guv biting his lip.  Oh the man wanted to thump her upside the head, Sam could see it in his face.  The problem was, technically forensics was not under his command and they were having a hard time getting investigators to the scene because of Gene’s utter lack of respect toward them.  Forensics did their jobs, but unless Sam made sure to smooth things over personally there was a good chance that CID’s caseload would be done last. 

“Please,” Sam nodded.  “Tell us about the body.” 

“Suicide Boss,” Chris broke in.  “It’s obvious.” 

“Well you’re a right sharp one aren’t you?” He could hear the sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

“What’s your name?  Oh genius who is going to make my job redundant with your brilliant insights?” 

“DC Chris Skelton,” Sam could see that Chris was still trying to figure out if he’d been insulted. 

“Well DC. Skelton I’m sorry to disappoint you but no.  Gentlemen, meet Jane Doe.  No identification on the body.  I’m hoping to find something on the roof once the ambulance arrives and I can begin searching up there.  A handbag perhaps.” 

“Cause of death?” Sam asked. 

“She fell off the roof,” the Guv snorted. 

“Sorry no,” Cynthia broke in.  “She didn’t.” 

“You’re telling me that she’s lying here with a busted in skull and she didn’t come off that roof?” The Guv argued. 

“Oh no,” Cynthia corrected.  “She came off that roof.  Impact with the pavement killed her.  She just didn’t fall.” 

“You’re saying she was pushed.” 

“More likely she was thrown.  Angle of the body is wrong for a push.  Whoever he is, she got a piece of him.  We have skin under the nails and specks of blood on the fingers.” 

“There’s blood everywhere,” Ray argued. 

“Not around the hands,” she answered.  “All the blood is at the head, where she bled out.  There’s blood on her fingertips though and it’s dry.  Blood behind her head is still sticky.” 

“So?” Chris asked. 

“So that means,” Sam broke in, “that the blood on her fingers is not splatter from the head wound.” 

“Exactly DI Tyler,” she nodded.  “Now DCI Hunt if you could indulge me.” 

“Feeling a bit light headed sweet heart?” The Guv asked as he reached for a flask.  “Take a quick nip, it should do the trick.  First body is always the worst.” 

Sam watched as Cynthia slid her surgical gloves off and took the flask from him.  “It’s not my first body and I wasn’t going for a quick nip.”

 Sam watched as she took just that.  “Good single malt,” she shrugged.  “Thanks.  What I was wondering is if you’d give me permission to try an experiment.” 

“An experiment?” Gene stared. 

“Whoever threw our Jane Doe,” she started.  “They had to touch her.  I’d like to check her body for fingerprints.” 

“You can’t get daubs off skin,” Ray protested.

“Actually you can, in theory.  Friend of mine in California sent me a journal article about a new technique they’re doing there.  They’ve had good results.  It won’t take more than a few hours but I understand if you refuse.” 

“Don’t know what we’re going to get from it,” Guv answered. 

“Of course,” she agreed.  “DCI Litton feels the same way.  Perhaps when the science is more advanced.” 

“Litton?” Gene scowled and Sam just smiled.  She’d certainly known how to get at the Guv.  “A few hours?” 

“A day at most,” she confirmed.  “I’ll just need one of the rooms in the morgue and since we know the cause of death the coroner can do an abbreviated autopsy once I’ve finished.”

“Done,” the Guv agreed. 

A few minutes later, once the body was packed up in an ambulance Sam found himself walking the roof with Cynthia Baxter while the others did a fingertip search of the street.  “So how do you propose to get fingerprints off skin then?” Sam asked her. 

“Epoxy steaming,” she answered as she moved slowly around the roof.  “I’ll seal the room off like a fume hood, dust the body down for prints and then I’ll place a large bucket of epoxy under the table on top of a hot plate.  As the epoxy heats it will turn to a gas, rise, and then once it cools in the air above the body it will attach to any oils on the skin.  After that, I simply go through and peel the epoxy off, preserving any layers that have fingerprints on them.” 

“Does that work?” 

“Appears to,” she answered.  “I’ve never actually done it mind, but the science makes sense.  I have a handbag here.” 

Sam heard the snap of gloves and walked over to where she was standing.  “Found it here next to the ledge.  Looks of it this is where everything took place.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed.  “No signs of a struggle near the door.  She came up here willingly.” 

“Means she knew her killer.” Sam watched as Cynthia walked back to the door.  “I’m Jane Doe, I come up on the roof with a man.  Why?” 

“Privacy?” Sam suggested.  “Sex in public without actually being seen?” 

“No doubt you’re a man is there?” She snorted. “No, he’s convinced me it will be romantic.  Come up on the roof and look out at the city lights.  Closest thing to stargazing you’re going to get in Manchester.” 

“Does it work?” Sam asked. 

“Ask my husband,” she smiled.  “Anyway, they’ve gone on a date, they’re up on the roof and she,” Sam watched as she mimicked sliding a handbag off her shoulder.  “Handbag gets in the way, besides it’s a bloody nuisance, so she sets it down there.” 

“How’s she end up on the ground then?” 

“Come here,” she beckoned.  “Stand there, facing me.  They’re having a romantic evening, something happens, they start to fight,” she reached out a grabbed Sam’s hands placing them on her arms. 

“He gets angry, throws her over the edge.” Sam finished.  Turning both of them look down at the blood stain beneath them on the sidewalk. 

“She ends up at this angle, face up, down there.” Cynthia agrees.  “He flees, forgets about the handbag so he leaves it.  That’s how your murder happened DI Tyler.  Now all you need to do is find out who he is, who she is and why.” 

“Well there’s an easy way to answer one of those questions,” Sam responded and handed her back the handbag.  “Probably has a wallet inside.” 

“It does,” she said as she rifled through it.  “According to the license it’s Myra Tiggs.  Oh shit.” 

“Know her?” Sam asked. 

“Should ask you the same thing Inspector.” Cynthia answered as she reached into the handbag and pulled out a black leather warrant card, almost identical to his own.  “WPC Myra Tiggs.  License gives an address here in Manchester.” 

“She’s a police officer?” Sam asked. 

“That would be what the evidence suggests,” Cynthia agreed. 

The car screeched to a halt just outside the police cordon and Sam took a moment to flex the life back into his fingers.  Try as he might it was still difficult getting used to taking corners on two wheels. 

“Come on Gladys, quit checking your manicure and lets go get a peek at our dead girl.” 

“Right,” Sam answered.  “What are all these buildings then?  Warehouses?” 

“Mostly,” Guv answered.  “Turning the whole area into cheap flats though.  Call it neighborhood revitalization.” 

“Hmm,” Sam shrugged.  “Might have to come over and check it out.  Get out of that crap sit and sleep.” 

“Need a place of your own Tyler?” The Guv raised an eyebrow and Sam flushed.  “How long has it been since you’ve been over to that shitty little rat hole of yours?” 

“Went over last week for a few more changes of clothes,” Sam smirked.  It wasn’t like Gene to tease about their personal life once he’d transitioned each morning into being ‘The Guv’.  Sam was prepared to enjoy it, even if it involved a dead girl. 

“Well, well!” The Guv announced as he stepped into the group of men huddled around the body.  “Forensics has already made it, what the hell?” 

Sam followed behind and stopped short just behind the Guv.  Forensics was on the scene before they were for once.  He tried to hide his smile at the amazement on the other men’s faces.  Forensics looked as if she’d come up to maybe his shoulder and a good strong wind would knock her over. 

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Gene snapped. 

“You must be DCI Hunt,” the woman nodded her head in his direction.  “I’d shake your hand but I think you’d prefer if I didn’t,” she glanced down at the blood on her gloves. 

“I repeat woman, who the bleeding hell are you?” 

“Cynthia Baxter, with forensics, I live down that way a bit.  They called me to meet you on the scene.  That must be DI Tyler behind you.  I was told it was him I should try to work with Sir, since you aren’t a fan of forensics.  What did they tell me you called it ‘gay boy science’?” 

“But you’re a plonk,” Gene stuttered. 

“Actually no,” she shrugged.  “I’m a forensic analyst.  Been here about a year.  Primarily work in the meager lab facilities we have.  Like I said, they called me because I live a few streets over.” 

“Cynthia Baxter?” Sam repeated.  “You’re Cynthia Baxter?” This wasn’t right, he thought to himself. Cynthia Baxter was, well she was old.  Well she had been when Sam knew her.  He’d worked on the last case she did before she retired.  Had been the one to ask her out of retirement to work the Chelsea Wainright case.  Sam grimaced at the memory and shoved it from his mind. 

The woman kneeling next to the body though, she wasn’t old.  She was young, younger than Sam at least.  30 maybe?  No black business suits and severe buns either.  She looked more relaxed.  She looks like one of the analysts, Sam reminded himself, not an administrator.  He shook his head and tried to focus. 

“And you’re DI Tyler,” the woman answered.  “That’s right.  Now that you’ve caught up with the rest of the class DI Tyler perhaps you’d like me to tell you a little bit about your scene?”  No, he amended, it was Cynthia Baxter all right. 

“Think the Boss has found himself a girl.” Ray whispered loudly to Chris.  Sam saw her eyes flick over to Ray and saw the subtle shake of her head.  “Bet she’s giving him one hell of a stiffy.”

“Right, body.” She announced.  “If we’re all up to speed on the fact that yes forensics is here, yes I am in fact a woman, and DI Tyler knows his own name and is apparently in need of a girl?” Sam watched her look around and could see the Guv biting his lip.  Oh the man wanted to thump her upside the head, Sam could see it in his face.  The problem was, technically forensics was not under his command and they were having a hard time getting investigators to the scene because of Gene’s utter lack of respect toward them.  Forensics did their jobs, but unless Sam made sure to smooth things over personally there was a good chance that CID’s caseload would be done last. 

“Please,” Sam nodded.  “Tell us about the body.” 

“Suicide Boss,” Chris broke in.  “It’s obvious.” 

“Well you’re a right sharp one aren’t you?” He could hear the sarcasm dripping off her tongue.  “What’s your name?  Oh genius who is going to make my job redundant with your brilliant insights?” 

“DC Chris Skelton,” Sam could see that Chris was still trying to figure out if he’d been insulted. 

“Well DC. Skelton I’m sorry to disappoint you but no.  Gentlemen, meet Jane Doe.  No identification on the body.  I’m hoping to find something on the roof once the ambulance arrives and I can begin searching up there.  A handbag perhaps.” 

“Cause of death?” Sam asked. 

“She fell off the roof,” the Guv snorted. 

“Sorry no,” Cynthia broke in.  “She didn’t.” 

“You’re telling me that she’s lying here with a busted in skull and she didn’t come off that roof?” The Guv argued. 

“Oh no,” Cynthia corrected.  “She came off that roof.  Impact with the pavement killed her.  She just didn’t fall.” 

“You’re saying she was pushed.” 

“More likely she was thrown.  Angle of the body is wrong for a push.  Whoever he is, she got a piece of him.  We have skin under the nails and specks of blood on the fingers.” 

“There’s blood everywhere,” Ray argued. 

“Not around the hands,” she answered.  “All the blood is at the head, where she bled out.  There’s blood on her fingertips though and it’s dry.  Blood behind her head is still sticky.” 

“So?” Chris asked. 

“So that means,” Sam broke in, “that the blood on her fingers is not splatter from the head wound.” 

“Exactly DI Tyler,” she nodded.  “Now DCI Hunt if you could indulge me.” 

“Feeling a bit light headed sweet heart?” The Guv asked as he reached for a flask.  “Take a quick nip, it should do the trick.  First body is always the worst.” 

Sam watched as Cynthia slid her surgical gloves off and took the flask from him.  “It’s not my first body and I wasn’t going for a quick nip.” Sam watched as she took just that.  “Good single malt,” she shrugged.  “Thanks.  What I was wondering is if you’d give me permission to try an experiment.” 

“An experiment?” Gene stared. 

“Whoever threw our Jane Doe,” she started.  “They had to touch her.  I’d like to check her body for fingerprints.” 

“You can’t get daubs off skin,” Ray protested. 

“Actually you can, in theory.  Friend of mine in California sent me a journal article about a new technique they’re doing there.  They’ve had good results.  It won’t take more than a few hours but I understand if you refuse.” 

“Don’t know what we’re going to get from it,” Guv answered. 

“Of course,” she agreed.  “DCI Litton feels the same way.  Perhaps when the science is more advanced.” 

“Litton?” Gene scowled and Sam just smiled.  She’d certainly known how to get at the Guv.  “A few hours?” 

“A day at most,” she confirmed.  “I’ll just need one of the rooms in the morgue and since we know the cause of death the coroner can do an abbreviated autopsy once I’ve finished.” 

“Done,” the Guv agreed. 

A few minutes later, once the body was packed up in an ambulance Sam found himself walking the roof with Cynthia Baxter while the others did a fingertip search of the street.  “So how do you propose to get fingerprints off skin then?” Sam asked her. 

“Epoxy steaming,” she answered as she moved slowly around the roof.  “I’ll seal the room off like a fume hood, dust the body down for prints and then I’ll place a large bucket of epoxy under the table on top of a hot plate.  As the epoxy heats it will turn to a gas, rise, and then once it cools in the air above the body it will attach to any oils on the skin.  After that, I simply go through and peel the epoxy off, preserving any layers that have fingerprints on them.” 

“Does that work?” 

“Appears to,” she answered.  “I’ve never actually done it mind, but the science makes sense.  I have a handbag here.” 

Sam heard the snap of gloves and walked over to where she was standing.  “Found it here next to the ledge.  Looks of it this is where everything took place.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed.  “No signs of a struggle near the door.  She came up here willingly.” 

“Means she knew her killer.” Sam watched as Cynthia walked back to the door.  “I’m Jane Doe, I come up on the roof with a man.  Why?” 

“Privacy?” Sam suggested.  “Sex in public without actually being seen?” 

“No doubt you’re a man is there?” She snorted.  “No, he’s convinced me it will be romantic.  Come up on the roof and look out at the city lights.  Closest thing to stargazing you’re going to get in Manchester.” 

“Does it work?” Sam asked. 

“Ask my husband,” she smiled.  “Anyway, they’ve gone on a date, they’re up on the roof and she,” Sam watched as she mimicked sliding a handbag off her shoulder.  “Handbag gets in the way, besides it’s a bloody nuisance, so she sets it down there.” 

“How’s she end up on the ground then?” 

“Come here,” she beckoned.  “Stand there, facing me.  They’re having a romantic evening, something happens, they start to fight,” she reached out a grabbed Sam’s hands placing them on her arms. 

“He gets angry, throws her over the edge.” Sam finished.  Turning both of them look down at the blood stain beneath them on the sidewalk. 

“She ends up at this angle, face up, down there.” Cynthia agrees.  “He flees, forgets about the handbag so he leaves it.  That’s how your murder happened DI Tyler.  Now all you need to do is find out who he is, who she is and why.” 

“Well there’s an easy way to answer one of those questions,” Sam responded and handed her back the handbag.  “Probably has a wallet inside.” 

“It does,” she said as she rifled through it.  “According to the license it’s Myra Tiggs.  Oh shit.” 

“Know her?” Sam asked. 

“Should ask you the same thing Inspector.” Cynthia answered as she reached into the handbag and pulled out a black leather warrant card, almost identical to his own.  “WPC Myra Tiggs.  License gives an address here in Manchester.” 

“She’s a police officer?” Sam asked. 

“That would be what the evidence suggests,” Cynthia agreed. 


	3. Chapter Three

“Guv,” Sam announced as he followed Cynthia down the fire escape. “She’s a WPC.” 

“No,” the Guv answered. “She very clearly told us she was a forensics investigator Gladys weren’t you listening to the lady. It’s no wonder the birds don’t like you.” 

“Not me,” Cynthia sighed and Sam could tell from years of working together that she was rapidly losing her patience. The look hadn’t changed, wouldn’t change he corrected. “The dead woman. WPC Myra Tiggs.” 

“Myra Tiggs?” Annie asked suddenly as she walked onto the scene, yawning slightly behind her hand. “What about her?” 

“You know her?” Sam replied. 

“Yeah,” Annie nodded. “Myra and I were roommates at the Women’s Academy. Stayed in her flat once we got back till I found one of me own.” 

“She have any family luv?” The Guv asked gently and placed a hand on her shoulder. “A husband?” 

“She’s got a mum who lives on the other side of town,” Annie answered. “Fiancee as well. Lives over near the football stadium. Bought a nice little row house and they’re fixing it up to move into once they’re married.” 

“Annie,” Sam swallowed. “Um, I don’t know how to tell you this.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“Myra Tiggs is the woman we found this morning.” 

“Myra?” Annie laughed. “Don’t be silly! Why would Myra be down here? There’s nothing down here at all and she lives across town. You’ve made a mistake Sam.” 

“Annie,” he tried again. “We’ve found her purse Annie. We matched her driver’s license to her to identify her. It’s Myra Tiggs.”

“No,” he watched Annie shake her head as tears welled up in her eyes. “No, Sam.” 

“I’m sorry Cartwright,” the Guv placed an arm around her shoulder and turned her back to the scene. “Why don’t you let Chris and Ray take you back down to the station? You don’t need to see any of this.” 

“Guv?” She whimpered again. 

“I’ll do it,” Cynthia broke in and reached for Annie’s arm. “I’m done here anyway. Need to be getting back.” 

“Who’re you?” Annie sniffled. 

“Forensic investigator. My name is Cynthia Baxter. Why don’t you come on in with me and you can tell me about your friend Myra. Give me a few details so I know what to really look for. How does that sound?” 

“Well,” Annie said hesitantly. “I haven’t seen her for a few months. She mainly works with RCS and DCI Litton, well he doesn’t like her. He sent her to Sussex as a fill in for their Desk Girl. She’s been so busy she hasn’t gotten in contact with anyone.” 

Sam looked over at the Guv questioningly. “Litton don’t have that kind of pull,” Gene muttered. “Don’t know what she’s going on about.” 

“Undercover?” Sam suggested when Annie was out of ear shot. 

“A plonk?” The Guv retorted. “Who puts a plonk under cover?” 

“It’s Litton,” Sam countered. 

“Right,” Guv agreed. “Wouldn’t put anything past Litton.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“We leave Chris and Ray to do the canvas with the uniforms and we go see Litton and the poofters in RCS.” 

“You think he’s going to tell us anything?” 

“If he doesn’t I’ve got just the trick to handle him.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Remember we arrested John Mitchells yesterday? Lewd behavior in public?” 

“Right.” 

“DCI Litton doesn’t tell us what we want to know I’m going to throw him in a cell with John Mitchells and let them have some bonding time. From what I understand Mitchells likes it more aggressive than most.” 

“You’re going to lock another DCI in a cell with an aggressive jail house queen to get answers?” Sam prodded. 

“Why not?” Gene replied. “Might do him some good. You know the more I think about it, the better it sounds. Even if Litton does tell us what we need to know I think I might put him in there for a while anyway. Claim it’s a medical necessity.” 

“Medical necessity?” 

“Wanted to let him see how it felt to really have a stick up his jacksy. You’ve seen Mitchells.” The Guv was smiling. 

Sam tried not to blush at the memory of being flashed by Mitchells. It had been something he hadn’t experienced in a while. Actually, Sam amended, ever. He’d never had to nick a man for exposing himself in public. They never wanted to show the merchandise to Sam. Although he did have some female DC’s who’d brought in multiple suspects for the same charge. He tried not to take it personally. DC Wainright had once told him to stop his bitching at least he could walk by the cells without being propositioned into enough lewd behavior to make a cathouse blush. 

“That might be overdoing it Guv,” Sam chuckled. 

“Why’s that?” 

“You didn’t see Mitchells yesterday Guv,” he answered. “There’s showing him what a stick up the arse feels like and then there’s jamming a log up in it’s place.” 

“I wasn’t going to shove my ding a ling up there Sam.” Gene leered at him as they climbed in the Cortina. 

Sam just raised an eyebrow. “You may be the Sheriff Guv,” he said in a low voice so that no one else could here. “Mitchells is certainly big man on campus though.” 

“Not supposed to be looking Sammy.” 

“Can’t help it when someone trips me over and then waves it in my face can I? You have no idea what will happen in that scenario if you open your mouth.” 

Gene just glared. “Perhaps when Mitchells is done with Litton I’ll shove you in his cell. Let him teach you some manners you tart. Could get quite a surprise.” 

“I was referring to you just then Guv. Wouldn’t put my mouth anywhere near any part of John Mitchells.” 

“That so?” 

“That’s so. If nothing else he had the beginnings of a very nasty looking rash.” 

“Rash?” Gene inquired. 

“Rash.” 

“That’s it.” 

“What’s it?” 

“We’re definitely leaving Litton with him.”


	4. Chapter Four

“Litton!” The Guv bellowed as he and Sam pushed open the swinging doors to the RCS bull pen. “Litton!” 

Sam could taste the tension in the room. They hated the members of CID as much as CID hated them and now the Guv was in their inner sanctum raging like a Spanish bull. He followed silently behind as the man stormed to Litton’s office and threw open the door. In the doorway he stopped suddenly. 

“Well, well Litton,” the Guv crowed. “What’s this?” 

Sam peered around the small crack the Guv left for him. The shades to Litton’s office were drawn and Sam could see at least part of the reason why. Handbag on the sofa, high heeled red pumps on the floor and a flash of stretched red satin clad arse bent over the desk. 

“Hunt you bastard!” Litton snapped. “Get out and close the door!” 

“No can do Litton,” Sam could hear the Guv trying not to laugh. “We have a case and we need your input. So,” Sam watched as he turned his attention to the young woman. “Out you go luv.” 

“Sure,” Sam could see she seemed nonplussed. “That’ll be £75 DCI Litton.”

“We’ll talk later Kimberly.” Litton spat. 

“Sorry DCI Litton but Joe was specific. Says you can’t have a tab no more. You don’t ever pay and the last time you kited him a bad check. Says cash only from now on.” 

“Sounds like you need to pay the lady Litton,” the Guv snickered. “Let her earn her money and be on her way. Sure she’s got more to the work day left and all.” 

“Here you are,” Litton crammed some notes into her hand. “On your way.” 

“DCI Litton,” she shifted and Sam could tell she was embarrassed now. “You shorted me. You owe £75. £25 for the shag and £50 for the other.” From how she stressed the word other Sam knew that it was something Litton didn’t want coming out. 

“Make ya a deal sweetheart,” the Guv said as he turned away from Litton and toward the girl. The young girl, Sam amended now that he could see her properly. Barely looked 16.

“Why don’t you tell me everything and I’ll pay you £250. Don’t even have to get on your knees for it. How’s that sound? All you’ve got to do is come on down to me office and tell me everything DCI Litton and his boys like.” 

“Here Kimberly,” Litton stuffed more notes into her hand. “Go on home now.” 

“Offer still stands. Even let you keep what you just made. Earned it and all.” 

“£250 just to tell you this one’s kinks?” She clarified. “Nothing else?” 

“Not a thing,” Gene answered. “What ya say?” 

“Sorry DCI Pansyarse,” she shrugged at Litton. “Girl’s got to go where the money is. Besides Joe said to tell you, after the mess that lot of your’s made last time you ain’t welcome anymore. Got one of the Superintendents as a customer now, don’t need our arrangement with you.” 

“You bitch!” Litton snapped. 

“That’s me,” she shrugged. “And you ain’t tipped me once in 2 years of once a weeks. Seems to me that gives me the right.” 

“Sam,” the Guv broke in as he took Kimberly’s arm, led her out of the room and away from Litton. “Why don’t you take this lovely young lady down to CID and talk with her? Pay her out of the money I keep in me office.” 

“Course Guv,” Sam smiled warmly at the girl. “I’m DI Tyler, you can call me Sam.” 

“Hi Sam,” she beamed up at him. “I’m Kimberly. You’re awful handsome.” 

“Thanks Kimberly.” Sam tried to keep his smile. Suddenly an evil thought hit him and he smiled slightly wider. “You’re beautiful Kim. Can I call you Kim?” When she giggled Sam took that as a sign of encouragement. “I’d like to take you to lunch Kim. Could I do that?” 

“Sure,” she agreed. He could see Litton glaring. 

“Just one question Kim before we go to lunch. How old are you?” 

“I’m 16,” she answered. “Why?” 

“And you’ve been seeing DCI Litton here once a week for how long?” 

“Two years,” she replied. 

“Ok,” Sam reached out and put an arm around her shoulder. “Guv instead of talking to her in your office I think I’m going to take Kim here to lunch. Somewhere a little less intimidating. Don’t want my girl to feel nervous do we? We’ll just get the money from your office and go. Bring you back something?” 

“Sure Sam,” the Guv winked. “I should be done with DCI Litton then I think.” 

“How’s curry sound?” Sam suggested. “You like curry Kim? Or would you prefer something else?” 

“Curry sounds good.” She smiled. 

“Right,” Sam snagged the Cortina keys from the Guv’s pocket and squeezed her just a little tighter so that Litton could see. 

“I know a shop nearby that has amazing curry. We’ll go there. It’s a bit too far to walk though. You don’t mind taking a car ride with me do you?” 

“Course not,” she answered as Sam led her away from Litton’s office and back through RCS with a smirk on his face. He knew the other officers were staring. Probably wetting themselves with fear on what the underage prozzie was going to tell the picky pain DI from CID. “So what do you drive Sam?” 

“Oh me?” Sam answered loud enough for the Guv and Litton to hear. “Drive a Cortina. What about you?” 

“Don’t have my license yet. Joe says when the time comes he’ll teach me how to drive.” 

“Nonsense,” Sam stopped just inside the swinging door and turned to look at her. “I’ll teach you. You can have your first lesson on the way to lunch.” 

“You’ll let me drive your Cortina?” She asked skeptically. 

“Why not?” Sam replied and looked over quickly to smirk at a glaring Gene. 

“Oh Sam!” She giggled loudly and threw her arms around him. “You’re the nicest copper I’ve ever met.” He let his smile broaden at the scowl Gene was wearing. He was going to pay for this later. “And just think,” she shrieked. “I haven’t even shagged you yet!”


	5. Chapter Five

“Tyler!” The Guv yelled as Sam sauntered back into the bullpen to wolf whistles and lewd comments about his “long lunch with the bird” as Ray called it. “Office now!” 

“Yes Guv?” Sam answered as he tossed his jacket onto the desk and made his way into the office with the Cortina keys. He wasn’t sure how to tell the Guv that Kimberly had scratched his paint. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Sam hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

“What did you find out from the curvaceous Kimberly?” The Guv asked as he poured each of them a drink. 

“Enough to make my hair stand on end,” Sam answered truthfully. “Guv something’s got to be done about this. I mean seriously. Brothel full of underage girls being frequented by the police?” 

“You heard the prozzie Sam. Only reason she talked to you is they didn’t need Litton’s protection anymore. Had themselves a Superintendant watching the place. My hunch would be Rathbone, he likes them young. We aren’t going to be able to clean that up without stepping on a few well placed toes.” 

“She’s 16 Guv,” Sam replied heatedly. “Been working for this Joe character 4 years! You know how old that would have made her? 12 Guv! 12,” Sam shuddered in disgust at the thought. 

“Tell me about Litton.” 

“That’s just the icing on the cake,” Sam shook his head. “Once a week in his office for the last two years. Every kink imaginable and some she had to explain. He takes his team down to celebrate about once every 3 months. Foots the bill. Apparently they aren’t the most behaved clientele when they’re there either.” 

“Really?” 

“Two girls in the hospital, bunch more that were the worse for wear, tore the place to shreds, then left without paying their tab. Said Litton has a couple of DC’s that are such hotheads their pimp, Joe, won’t even let the girls go out to meet them. They have to come to the girls where there’s security in place. That’s where it gets interesting Guv.”   
“Why’s that? Litton’s kinky? His boys like their slap and tickle with a bit more slap and a lot less tickle?” 

“Kimberly was with one of the DC’s the last time Litton took them out celebrating.” 

“So?” 

“Called her Myra,” Sam answered. “Not just once she said.” 

“She remembers that he called her Myra? All these customers since?” 

“Claims she remembers it because after the first time he called her Myra was when he started beating her up and then,” Sam swallowed. 

“Then?” 

“Guv,” Sam was uncomfortable. “He did things to her.” 

“Well you do with a prozzie Sam. That’s what they’re paid for. To let you do things.” 

“Raped and sodomized her with a loaded pistol Guv.” Sam blurted out. “Said that made her remember the night real clear. Said he kept calling her Myra the whole time.” 

“What’s this DC’s name?” 

“Carsons.” 

“Right,” the Guv agreed. “Now this is officially interesting. You see while you were out mooning over the girl,” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“While you were out mooning,” the Guv repeated. “I was talking to Litton and persuaded him that perhaps I could keep quiet about his little indiscretions if he could tell us something about what Myra Tiggs was working on.” 

“We’re going to let him go?” 

“Till we find Myra Tiggs killer,” the Guv poured both of them another drink. “Then we’re going to take everything you’ve got to Rathbone and we’re going to make sure that Litton and his team are handled.” 

“Handled?” 

“Won’t get jail time Sammy,” Guv grimaced. “Much as I’d like them too.” The man shook his head in disgust. “Ain’t nothing worse than a man who’d hurt a child. Makes my blood boil. But they ain’t going to jail. Best we can hope for is Rathbone trying to cover up his own involvement. Force Litton into retirement, you might get to be DCI, demote some of his men, fire the rest.” 

“So what did we learn about Myra Tiggs?” Sam decided to change the subject to something they could be proactive about. 

“That is a mess.” The Guv snorted. “Turns out Litton sent her undercover to investigate some bloke called Rajeem Assad. Ugandan Asian, been here about a year. Made his mark in smuggling. That’s where RCS came in. Found out he had a thing for girls that looked like Myra Tiggs. Persuaded her to go undercover.” 

“Rajeem Assad?” Sam repeated. 

“Yep, Rajeem Assad.” The Guv agreed. “Why? You heard of him?” 

“Yeah,” Sam answered “I have. I investigated him in Hyde.” 

“For what? Smuggling?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Same situation as this one. Another plonk undercover to look into the smuggling. My team got it when she went missing.” 

“Missing?” 

“Chelsea Wainright,” Sam was shaking now. “He killed Chelsea Wainright. Threw her off,” Sam stopped. “Threw her off a building.” Not just any building Sam thought. He’d thrown her off a block of luxury flats in Baker Road. The same building Myra Tiggs had been found at the bottom of. “We could never prove it,” Sam continued. “No matter what we tried we couldn’t make it stick but we all knew he did it.” 

“Sounds like someone we need to talk to then,” the Guv responded. 

“What’s so interesting about Carsons? Why is he calling prostitutes Myra before going into a sexual rage and assaulting them?” 

“More importantly,” the Guv leaned back against the desk and peered at Sam. “Why was someone with that much bottled up emotion, rage, lust, whatever, acting as her contact with the department?” 

“Carsons was her contact?” 

“According to Litton. Myra Tiggs contacted DC Carsons once a week with information. Usually they met late Sunday nights.” 

“He might be the last person who saw her alive besides the killer,” Sam suggested. “He might even,” he stopped then and looked around. As much as Sam tried to do right he hated to utter what he was thinking. The thin blue line, the brotherhood. “He might be the one who tossed her off that building Guv. He certainly has an issue with her to work from according to what Kimberly told me and before you say she’s unreliable Guv I didn’t tell her about the case. Didn’t think it would do any good to upset her. We were talking about Litton’s crew and she mentioned it without prompting.” 

“He might be,” the Guv agreed. “Considering he’s part of Litton’s scum I wouldn’t put it past him. We investigate Rajeem Assad first though.” 

“Any ideas on where to find him?” 

“Litton gave me his home address. Said he gets there early evenings from work. Between now and then we can get as much evidence as possible, talk to everyone and anyone who might know anything and then my picky pain DI, when you’re gay boy science is satisfied we’ll take him into Lost and Found so I can beat him to death for killing a police officer.” 

“Two,” Sam answered. “He’s killed two and both of them are women.” 

“Let’s get to work on the gay boy science then Tyler. The others are working their angles and I want you to go down and light a fire under that forensic investigator’s jacksy. What was her name again - Cathy, Candy, what?”

“Cynthia Guv,” Sam smiled. “Cynthia Baxter.”

“Well why don’t you go moon over Cynthia Baxter then?” He opened the door then and ushered Sam out. “See if you can’t try the same moves on your analyst that you tried on the prozzie and get me the same good results.” 

“Think letting her drive the Cortina will do it Guv?” Sam called over his shoulder as he walked toward the exit. “May not be a novelty for her.” 

“Only a poofter has to use a car to pick up ladies!” The Guv shot back. “Real man can do it with a smile.” 

“Keep that in mind Guv,” Sam answered and smirked. If Gene ever thought he’d been actually flirting seriously with anyone he’d be enraged. Livid. Sam didn’t know if that was a good thing to test or not. He’d either come out with an arse to sore to sit on or back in his shitty sit and sleep crying in his pillow about where it all went wrong. He decided it was better not to test that just yet. Maybe once they were better established.


	6. Chapter Six

“Little tart,” Gene muttered as they pulled away from the Railway Arms. It had been the first thing he’d said to Sam since the bollocking he’d given him for getting the Cortina scratched. 

“It was an accident Guv,” Sam winced. “She really didn’t mean to hit the parking garage with your Cortina.” 

“Not her you poofter,” Gene shook his head in disgust and pulled down an alley that they’d never taken before. “You.” The car slid to a stop in the dark. 

“Me?” Sam turned to look at the other man in confusion. “How am I a tart?” 

Gene reached out and snaked a hand around Sam’s leather jacket collar, dragging him close. “You are a tart,” he enunciated. “Thought about it while I was talking to Litton and I decided out of the two of you you’re the bigger tart.” 

“The two of us?” Sam repeated. 

“You and Kimberly.” Gene clarified. “You’re the bigger tart.” Gene’s mouth was on his then and the taste of whiskey and fags flooded his other senses. Tongue pressing into his mouth demandingly and hands moving from his collar to his hips, pulling him in to straddle Gene’s lap. 

“How am I the bigger tart?” Sam gasped, mildly curious as Gene started to nip along the length of his neck. 

“She,” leather jacket being pushed off his shoulders and tossed into the passenger seat. “Gets,” hands pulling at his shirt tails and settling on his arse. “Paid for it,” Gene muttered as he buried his face back in Sam’s neck and began to suck. 

“What about me then?” Sam ground himself downwards against Gene’s erection. 

Hands pushing him up off Gene and a quick struggle, leaving both of them with trousers and pants pushed below the hips and cocks free. “You just enjoy the attention,” Gene announced as he looked up at Sam with a smile. 

Sam shuddered at the feel of Gene’s finger teasing his arse through the rumpled fabric, the other running along his length. He can feel Gene’s straining cock and grinds against it again. Tries to mimic the one lap dance he’s ever had, bought and paid for by his first DS on his 25th birthday. Gene grunts appreciatively and Sam wiggles some before reaching down to grab Gene’s cock. 

“Thought about you all day,” Gene gasps as Sam shifts to lean back against the steering column and begins to pull more demandingly on Gene’s cock. Thrusts his hips into the other man’s hand faster, willing him to take the hint that Sam’s hot and hard and he wants it, God he wants it right now. 

“Unggh,” Sam moaned as the hand stops pumping and instead fingers start trailing almost delicately along his length instead. 

“Tart,” Gene pronounced. 

“God yes,” Sam groaned in agreement. “Anything you want. Whatever you ask it’s yours. Just don’t stop.” 

“Thought about the two of you,” Gene doesn’t tighten his grasp or pick up speed, just continues to tease a squirming Sam and shifts so that he’s just barely out of Sam’s reach himself. “Together in the Cortina. Wondered about what you were doing together.” 

“Nothing,” Sam gasped and clutched frantically onto Gene’s shirt. “Not a thing,” he reassured Gene. “Didn’t even think about it.” 

“I did,” the hand was now tightening around him, still moving slowly but Sam moved his hips in counterpoint trying for enough friction to get off. “Thought about you with that little blonde parked in some alleyway shagging like bunnies in the Cortina. Downhill racer as Skelton calls it.” 

Sam’s eyes slid closed as Gene’s hand began to pick up speed. He was close, God he was close and Gene was holding him off just before the breaking point, driving him mad. “I know you like birds Sam. Told me that once didn’t you? Liked both teams. What did you call it again?” 

“Bisexual,” Sam grunted. “When you like men and women both it’s called being bisexual.” 

“Right,” Gene agreed. “Whatever you call it,” he started rubbing Sam furiously now. “I was thinking about you and that prozzie in my Cortina. Back alleyway doing all sorts of things.” 

Sam could taste blood from where he’d bitten clean through his lower lip. “Don’t want her,” Sam managed to spit out. “Want you. Please Gene. Please,” he whimpered. Swift twist of the wrist and Sam can hear his own scream reverberating inside the car as he comes. 

“Put yourself away,” Gene ordered gruffly before Sam could curl up inside his arms. 

“Gene,” he tried to reach for the other man instead. 

“Not done with you yet Sam,” Gene groaned and pushed him away. “Gonna make you pay for the damage to my car. Going to make you suffer for it.” 

“Really?” Sam asked as he did up his zip and squirmed to get more comfortable in the seat. Gene hadn’t tidied his own clothes and Sam decided to take advantage. “Guess I’ll have to start making it up to you.”

He leaned over and placed his head in Gene’s lap. “Drive Gene,” he announced between kisses to the other man’s stomach. When he heard the ignition start he smiled and began to tease Gene’s cock with his tongue. Licked along the shaft as they pulled out of the alley. Long swipes as they turned down streets and finally stopped for the light. Sam took advantage of the red light to shift slightly more and swallowed Gene whole. They were two blocks from the house and he knew Gene could last that long. Hollowed his cheeks and began to suck. Hum, make groaning noises in the back of his throat, anything, everything he’d ever enjoyed being on the receiving end of a blow job. He cracked his head hard against the steering wheel as Gene slammed on the brakes in front of the house. 

They barely made it inside before Gene had Sam against the front door kissing him hungrily. “Tart,” he growled. Sam only rolled his hips against Gene in response. “Gagging for it already aren’t you?” 

Strong arms pulling him toward the staircase between kisses. Dragging him, stumbling, up the stairs and pressing him against the bedroom doorway. Jackets on the ground outside the door, kicking out of shoes, clawing at buttons on shirts all the while kissing and nipping and biting each other like maniacs. Trousers and pants half on, Gene’s pushing him backwards onto the bed, ripping the rest away and flinging it across the room. Quick swipe of lube and it’s one, two, three fingers inside in rapid succession.   
“Fuck me Gene,” he’s whimpering now. Begging, pleading, bucking his hips against the fingers. “Damn it, fuck me already!” 

No wait then. Gene’s sliding inside and he’s wrapping his legs around Gene’s waist trying to pull him deeper, faster. Pressing down against him. Moaning into Gene’s neck, kissing his shoulders, moving in time with his thrusts, coming a second time from the friction between them helped along by the fact that Gene’s angled so that every thrust hits his prostate. A shout then and Gene’s holding him still as he comes inside Sam.

“Filthy tart,” Gene gasps. “Beautiful, filthy little tart.” 

“Your’s,” Sam murmurs as Gene slides out slowly. He’s drowsy and content, ready to sleep a dreamless sleep devoid of voices and test card girls.   
“Mine,” Gene agrees. “Not going to share either. All mine.” 

“Love you,” he whispered to the dozing man behind him. The arms around him tightened and he heard Gene give a grunt. Close enough Sam thought as he fell asleep.


	7. Chapter Seven

He was back in 2006. Maya was standing in front of him, talking up a storm and Sam looked around. It was neat, tidy, modern. The bulletin board didn’t have pictures of half naked women on them, they had notices for training seminars and a fresh one had just been posted about the Benevolent Fund’s annual charity dinner, October 17 2005. He wasn’t in 2006 he was in 2005. 

“Sam?” Maya asked suddenly and looked around. “DCI Tyler?” 

“What?” Sam swallowed and looked at her. He wanted to touch her so badly. Wanted to feel her skin. Wanted to assure himself that she was really there. “What were you saying Maya?” 

“I said I don’t feel right about this Sam.” Maya said sharply. “It’s too convenient.” 

“What is?” He was trying to focus. 

“DC Chelsea Wainright,” Maya sighed. “She’s waiting in your office. She’s not even a DC really. That’s just the designation they give them so we know what their hierarchy is.” 

“DC Wainright?” 

“The tech that was approached by Rajeem Assad two nights ago at a cocktail party?” Maya prompted. “You really are on cloud nine today Sam. That’s not like you. What’s going on in that brain of yours?” 

He knew where he was now. He remembered this conversation. Had replayed it a thousand times, a hundred thousand times, in his head trying to figure out just where it had all gone wrong. He always started with this conversation, started here at the beginning, trying to find an angle, a path unexplored. 

“Maya,” he answered. “It’s the best opportunity we’ve got. She’s a trained DC. A good one by all accounts. She’s even worked undercover before.” 

“For vice,” Maya argued. “One night jobs picking up punters who were looking for underage prostitutes! That’s not the same thing.” 

“Maya, I’m the DCI on this case and it’s my decision. If you don’t approve then I’ll just have to stand you down. There are plenty of other cases you can be working.” 

“Stand me down?” She’d asked angrily. “I don’t agree with your decision and you’ll stand me down?” 

“If I need to yes. It’s not productive to have you questioning my every decision on a case.” He said firmly. Have enough of that at home, he’d wanted to add but decided to keep this professional. 

“Fine,” she’d stormed away from him then and somehow Sam knew that this was where all the trouble had started. All of it. A fateful decision that would impact everyone’s life. He hadn’t felt the subtle shift then though. Instead he shook his head in frustration and opened his office door. Black suit, light purple shirt, they let them get away with too much in computer crimes Sam thought idly, black high heels. Unnaturally young face, brown hair pulled back in a knot, large eyes staring back at him. 

“DC Chelsea Wainright?” Sam asked. He’d been told she looked young but he hadn’t expected her to look this young. 

“Yes sir.” She nodded. 

“I know this is horribly rude of me,” he’d shaken his head again. “But I have to know. How old are you?” 

“26 sir,” she’d smiled then and he’d seen dimples form in her cheeks. “Would you like to see my license as proof? Promise I’m all grown up.” 

“No, no,” he’d laughed - embarrassed - at that. “I’m sorry it’s just,” 

“I get it all the time Sir,” she’d cut in. “No need to apologize for it.” 

“Right,” he’d sat behind his desk then and motioned for her to take a chair. “I want you to explain everything to me. Then we’ll decide between the two of us if this is a good idea DC Wainright.” 

He looked up from his blotter when she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in the chair. In real life she’d sat down in the chair and they’d discussed the case and decided she should go undercover. In his dreams he always saw her lying on the floor, eyes clouded over and her skull caved in. 

“Chelsea!” He sat bolt upright and reached for the dead woman in his dreams. 

“What?” Gene sat up beside him and looked over. “Why are you dreaming about football? Not even the season yet.” 

“No,” Sam groaned. “It’s nothing. Nightmare. Go back to sleep.” 

“Having a nightmare about football?” Gene mumbled. “That’s strange. Chelsea beating your beloved Reds? Sounds like a fantasy to me.” 

“It’s not about football,” Sam flopped back down and stared at the ceiling. “It’s about the case in Hyde we had against Rajeem Assad.” 

“Right,” Gene nodded before he leaned back against the headboard and lit a smoke. “Tell me about it then.” 

“No work at home remember?” Sam retorted. “Home is home, work is work. Never the twain shall meet.” 

“You’re not sleeping at home,” Gene replied. “So work is already here. Now spit it out. Tell me about this case.” 

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned sideways against Gene. “Right. DC, um WDC Chelsea Wainright. Worked primarily as an analyst. Didn’t make any waves really. Only people who noticed her besides the other analysts was the vice squad.” 

“Bit of a bad girl?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Had a rare attribute in a female officer that’s highly prized.” 

“What’s that?” 

“She looked about 15. So like I said, no one ever noticed her. Then one night she goes to a party with a friend of hers. He’s talking to someone, she’s standing at the bar, up comes Rajeem Assad who offers her a drink. Names are exchanged, the next thing she knows he’s invited her to dinner.” 

“He just invited you to dinner?” Sam asked her warily.

“He didn’t just walk up and say ‘hello I’m Rajeem Assad, currently under investigation by the Manchester Police can I buy you dinner?” She shrugged. 

“What was it then?” 

“He walked up and offered to buy me a drink. I accepted and we started talking. Told me he hated fancy gatherings and I agreed. We made small talk, finished our drinks and then we exchanged names. Sort of what happens the first time you meet someone at one of those things. Made some more small talk and he invited me to dinner.” She shrugged again. “Seemed real normal.” 

“Did you tell him you were a police officer?” Sam asked. 

“Course not, he told me his name and I recognized him immediately.” 

“How?” 

She’d looked at him like a bug on her shoe then. “Because DCI Tyler for the past 18 months I’ve been running all your technical support for the Rajeem Assad case. Every email interception, all the phone record analysis, control over all the wire taps you have in place, digital surveillance, backdoor hacking, all of it. In fact DCI Tyler I’ve been doing your technical support now for almost 3 years. 23 separate cases.” 

“No,” Sam answered and flipped open the Assad file. “Technical support is being done by DI Stuart personally.” 

“Shows how often you’ve been down to computer crimes,” she scoffed. “DI Stuart should be back from his lunch about 3. You’ll find him on the former DCI’s couch, sleeping it off.” 

“And your DCI?” Sam looked at her in horror. 

“Don’t have one. Left for an industry job, better pay, less hassles. They just rolled us into another branch. Never have met the DCI in charge of us now.” 

“So he invites her to dinner?” Gene prompted as he flipped on the bedside lamp and reached for one of his flasks. “What of it?” 

“He doesn’t know she’s in the police. Before that night we had nothing. No way in with Assad. Nothing. Tried a hundred different ways   
to infiltrate his group. Nothing ever worked. Could not get inside. He was watertight.” 

“Then he invites a plonk to dinner,” Gene shook his head and passed the flask to Sam. 

“She comes to us about it,” Sam took a sip and passed the flask back. “We decide to send her in undercover.” 

“We?” 

“Me,” Sam whispers. “She’s the perfect asset. The best way in and we could have made a case against him.” 

“I want you to call Assad back and agree to dinner,” Sam told her. “We’ll work surveillance from outside the restaurant and if it goes well, we’ll send you in undercover.”   
“No thank you Sir, DCI Tyler,” she answered. “I can’t help you. I just wanted to bring you Rajeem Assad’s private number. You can arrange for a warrant to wire tap it. As soon as you’ve got it I’ll set the tap up for you Sir.” 

“What do you mean no thank you?” Sam asked. He decided then to try a little competition. Get her fired up for it. Make it a challenge. “Fine.” He raised his hand in defeat. “DI Roy thought you couldn’t handle it. I just thought I’d give you the opportunity to prove her wrong.” 

“I’ll keep my comments about the glaring error in your comments to myself DCI Tyler,” she’d smiled. “But I will tell you that baiting me isn’t going to work. Besides you’ve tried to use DI Roy twice to get a set of tits into Rajeem Assad’s organization and have failed both times. She couldn’t manage to attract a street soldier, one glass of wine and I pulled Assad himself. Look,” she smiled sincerely. “ I’d like to help you out, really I would, but you see I’ve already put in my notice.” 

“Your notice?” Sam looked at her. “You’re leaving the force?” 

“Two weeks. Took a job in London. Better prospects.” 

“You don’t want to go into industry,” Sam shook his head. “You’re a DC. A good one.” 

“How would you know DCI Tyler? I’ve worked on all of your team’s cases for three years and until yesterday afternoon you didn’t even know my name. I’ve worked nights, holidays, weekends, had to cancel a vacation to Majorca with my girlfriends from university because you got a break on a case and needed surveillance then and there. Didn’t even bother to notice. I’m the only woman in my department, I’m expected to do all the same work, fetch the tea, and get patted on the bottom for my troubles. I’m twice as smart as my male collegues and I’ll never be promoted any farther than I am. I’m going to be underpaid and under appreciated my entire career if I stay here. I’m taking this job in London, with it’s career advancement potential, it’s stock options, and it’s obscenely high pay rate. Sorry I can’t help you sir but you’re just going to have to manage on your own.” 

“She didn’t want to do it Gene,” Sam mumbled. 

“What?” 

“She didn’t want to do it,” Sam said louder. “Didn’t want to go undercover. Didn’t want anything to do with any of it.” 

“So what happened?” 

“I,” Sam grimaced. “I persuaded her. Like I was supposed to.” 

“What about a transfer?” He’d asked as she walked toward the door. “And a promotion?” 

“Pardon?” 

“I’ll have you transferred to CID. If it’s like you say and all you work on is our technical support anyway then you should be in CID. Part of our team. I’ll arrange a transfer over to CID for you. You’ll do the technical aspect of our cases exclusively. Won’t be lost in the shuffle and if one of my officers even looks like he’s going to pat you on the bottom I’ll personally break his fingers. How’s that?” I’ll even arrange a promotion. If you’ve done all the tech work I thought Stuart was doing then you definitely deserve it.” 

“Sir,” she shook her head. “I’m not dumb enough to fall for empty promises. You want Rajeem Assad sir, I understand that. You get him and you’ll be a Superintendant by the time you’re 40. He’ll make your career. Meanwhile I’ll be back in the basement and instead of being ignored I’ll have DCI Roy coming down frequently to tell me how grateful I should be to be working overtime on her cases. I’ll pass sir.” 

“I don’t make empty promises,” Sam answered. “And you won’t be working with DI Roy. I understand she has issues with most of the technical officers. You’ll be working directly beneath me. Only with me and my team on this case. No one else will even know who our undercover officer is for your own safety. After this case if you still want to leave I’ll personally call each and every place you apply to and give them a ringing endorsement. It’s just,” Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re our only way in.” 

“Persuaded her?” Gene asked. 

“Promotion, pay raise. Whatever it took, I’d have offered her my left kidney to get her to go undercover.” 

“Did she agree?” 

“Took two days.” Sam answered. “Finally came down to me bugging her in her office until she just gave up. Got sick of the teasing from the men, got sick of me constantly annoying her, got sick of all of it. Agreed just to get me out of her hair.” 

“Can understand the sentiment,” Gene grunted. “So what happened then?” 

“We invented her a cover story. Had her sit in classes at the local University; she hadn’t done her college there so no one noticed. Looked like a normal 19 year old college girl. Within days of their dinner, Rajeem’s picking her up from the University each afternoon so they can have lunch. Soon it’s lunch and dinner. Within a few weeks it’s breakfast as well.” 

“Sounds like it worked,” Gene took another swig. “Nothing wrong with a case going right.” 

“That’s what I thought. Met her once a week somewhere around the University. The library, coffee shop, record store. Took six months. Six very, very long months. Finally she had something.” 

He’d seen her from the storefront window. Flirting with some bloke in the cd’s. “You can’t be serious!” She’d laughed and batted the young man with a goatee on the shoulder. “Please tell me that’s a chat up line because otherwise it’s just awful! Tragedy,” she shook her head. 

The man murmured something and Sam skirted around the music shop and tried to go unnoticed. He looked up once when she laughed and caught her eye. She didn’t acknowledge him but the next thing he heard was. “Look, I’m sorry you seem really nice but I just don’t think I could go for coffee with anyone who likes the Stone Roses. Off you go.” 

The young man stomped away and Sam pretended to look at cd’s as he moved closer to her. “What’s wrong with the Stone Roses?” He asked conversationally. “I like the Stone Roses.” 

“That explains a lot,” she snorted in a low tone. “Let me make a recommendation,” she reached for a cd. “You want this one.” She smiled. “Think it’ll change your life.” 

“White Trash Beautiful?” he looked at the cd cover. 

“Track Three is life altering,” she retorted as she turned toward the door. “Meet me tomorrow at the coffee shop on campus usual time.” The last part was a whisper and then she was gone. 

“Took six months?” Gene prompted. “You kept a plonk undercover six months?” 

“She could go everywhere our surveillance couldn’t.” Sam answered darkly. “Places she shouldn’t have. Took six months but she got a recording of him arranging a major drug deal. Lay curled up in his bed while he did business in the next room with the door open. Left her purse with the bug in it in his office. Came in and turned it on while she was retrieving her cigarettes. Had everything. Names, dates, times. All we had to do was wait. Two weeks.” 

“You’ve got what you need,” she said as he sat down with their coffees. “Get me out of there.” 

“Two weeks Chelsea,” he’d assured her. “You’ve just got to hold out two more weeks.” 

“You’ve got what you need to arrest him,” she argued. 

“Not till they pull it off. Until then it’s speculation. We need you to stay in place and alert us if anything changes. If he changes the slightest thing and we miss him because of it all your work will be worthless. Just two more weeks Chels.” 

“Says the man who goes home every night,” she answered bitterly. 

“Chels,” he patted her arm. “We’re going to get through this. Two weeks and I will be sitting on you every moment. When I’m not there I’ll be a phone call away. We will have you under surveillance every moment. You just have to hang on two more weeks. Then we’ll bring you home.” 

“Right,” she nodded. “Two more weeks Sam and then you start making those phone calls. Because once this is over I don’t ever want to be anywhere near you again. Two more weeks you say. Fine. Then consider this my official notice. In two weeks I’m done.” 

“Chels,” he tightened his grip. 

He reeled back from the slap. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare! It is Chelsea, not Chels and we are not friends. We are not lovers and we are not friends and you are using me to get ahead. I know it and so do you. Don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe you care. I’m nothing more that a tool to you and I know it as well as you. So don’t act concerned because it’ll just piss off DI Roy.” 

She’d stormed off then and Sam had followed from a slight distance. Watching her cautiously to make sure she didn’t do anything foolish. She stayed under though. Kept to her training.

“Three days before their big party, Chelsea doesn’t leave for school in the morning. We’re sitting in the car and we’re waiting because she’s regular as clockwork. An hour passes and nothing. Two hours, nothing. I’d left for 10 minutes Gene,” he scrubbed his eyes with his hands. “10 damn minutes.”   
“Maya,” he’d hissed in the mobile. “I really do not have time for this fight.” 

“You never have time for this fight Sam,” she’d argued back and Sam had nodded at the other officer on surveillance as he stepped out of the car and made his way around the corner. “You never have time for us!” 

“Maya!” He’d argued. “I’m sitting on an undercover agent right now. Don’t you think we could argue about this in I don’t know 3 days from now when we’ve arrested Assad?” 

“That’s the problem Sam!” She retorted. “You’re too wrapped up in this case. You’re emotionally involved now. You’re not looking at this with perspective.” 

“Perspective? We have the man on tape plotting a major heroin smuggling operation! How is that not in perspective?” 

“You’re not sitting on them because of the heroin.” Maya snapped. “You’re sitting on them because Chelsea Wainright is inside. Would you be there if it was another officer?”   
“You’re being unreasonable,” he’d announced before hanging up the phone. He’d walked back toward the car in the shadow of the early morning buildings and found his partner engrossed in a magazine. “Anything?” 

“Nothing,” the man responded absently before turning the page. 

Which of course had been wrong. Nothing was exactly what had not happened. He’d been gone 10 minutes and in that time she was gone. 

“Found her the morning their drugs were set to come in. Starved, beaten, raped, tortured,” Sam shuddered. “Ghastly torture Gene. According to the coroner she’d been alive through all of it. Then they slit her throat shallow and threw her off the side of a building.” 

“So?” 

“So?” 

“How did you make it right?” 

“We didn’t,” Sam sighed and took another drink of scotch. “Tried everything. Dug everywhere for evidence. To make things worse, we sat on Assad all that day, nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Found out a week later that they’d moved the shipment to London and brought it in on moving trucks. Went right past the station with it. We had nothing.” 

“Tough case,” Gene agreed as he slid an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “It happens.” 

“I put her there Gene. She’s dead because I put her there and he’s killed another police officer. It’s time we stop him.” 

“We’ll get him Sam,” Gene assured him. “But to do that my Sammuel I need you to get some sleep so in the morning I have my picky pain DI back and ready to drive me insane with his Hyde gay boy science.”


	8. Chapter Eight

He sat staring stonily at the road as it flew by beneath them. Held the handle above his door automatically and tried to empty his mind. Tried not to let his rage take over. Two dead police officers. Two women who’d been used and then tossed out like the trash. This wasn’t revenge. This was doing his job and it wasn’t his fault that sometimes he took a very perverse pleasure in it. 

He looked at the Guv as they stood in front of the townhouse door. Much smaller than the one he’d had in 2006. Not nearly as good a neighborhood. He pounded his fist against the door. “Rajeem Assad!” He shouted. “Open the door! It’s the police.” 

He looked over at the Guv when the door didn’t open. The other man shrugged. “Guess he’s not home Sammy,” he grinned evilly. “Think we should go and come back or wait?” 

“Let’s wait,” Sam answered and stepped back, putting his boot against the door and hearing it splinter. “After you.” 

“Thank you,” the Guv answered as he stepped through the door, gun drawn. “Rajeem Assad wherever you are you murdering fuck you are surrounded by armed bastards.” 

“Who are you?” He heard a familiar voice scream from the stairway and sees the man shirtless, walking down then from what appears to have been a shower. “What are you doing kicking in my door?” 

“Rajeem Assad,” Sam announced enthusiastically. “You are under arrest for a whole multitude of things, most importantly the murder of Myra Tiggs.” 

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Rajeem argued. “Myra Tiggs is in London visiting her aunt! I took her there myself!” 

“Wrong again Rajeem,” the Guv snarled as he helped Sam pull the man out of the house and threw him in the Cortina. The ride to the station was silent. Sam tapped thoughtfully against the window of the car, and Gene drove jerkily, throwing their handcuffed prisoner about the back like a sack of spuds.   
Dragging Rajeem to Lost and Found Sam saw Cynthia Baxter coming toward them. “DI Tyler,” she called.

“Not now,” he answered brusquely. 

“DI Tyler!” She persisted as she followed him down the hall. 

“What?” He turned to look at the excited looking woman behind him. “What do you want?” 

“Fingerprint him,” she smiled. “I have usable prints from her arms DI Tyler. You bring me the murderer’s prints and I can match them visually to the body.” 

“You have prints?” Sam asked. 

“I have prints,” she confirmed. “Even better, local magistrate has been notified and he skimmed the research I sent. When you get them the fingerprints are admissable as evidence. Print him.” 

Sam nodded then. “I’ll have Chris run them down the minute they’re done.” Sam answered. “Don’t even go for a cuppa until you see him.”   
A few minutes later he smiled at Rajeem malevolently. “Well Rajeem, you are truly fucked my friend.” He could see the Guv looking at him in shock. This was not how their dynamic worked. Luckily, the Guv was adaptable. 

“Why’s that?” Rajeem asked. “Don’t even know why I’m here.” 

“You’re here because you killed Myra Tiggs. Pushed her off a roof. And we have prints on her body that we’re going to match to you.” 

“Myra is in London,” Rajeem protested. “Left last Friday. Spending the week with her aunt. I drove her there myself. Didn’t want her taking the public transport. Not like she was. Poor girl.” 

“Poor girl’s dead,” the Guv answered as he lit a cigarette. “Found her Monday morning.” 

“No,” Rajeem answered. “She’s in London.” 

“Dead,” Sam replied. “Backwards off a roof.” 

“So why are you here questioning me?” Rajeem asked. “Shouldn’t you be going after that bastard ex of hers? That’s the son of a bitch you’re looking for.” 

“Ex?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “We don’t know anything about an ex. Why don’t you fill us in Rajeem?” 

“Look,” Rajeem shook his head. “Myra was a good girl. Cute, friendly, worked in one of my clubs as a cocktail waitress. Customers loved her. Now me I’m not stupid and I keep an eye on my girls. I notice the uniform’s getting tight in all the right places. Notice she’s got a sensitive stomach now. Confirmed it when I watched her eating chips with strawberry jam on them.”

“Myra Tiggs was pregnant?” Sam asked. 

“Said her bastard ex boyfriend got her that way and then took off. Family didn’t want anything to do with her. Felt bad for the girl. Had a good head on her shoulders. Put her to work as a secretary so she was off her feet. She decided to go visit her aunt in London for a week. See about making herself a life there. Get away from Manchester for a while.” 

“One second,” Sam said. He stepped out the door of Lost and Found and made his way quickly to CID. “Ray!” 

“What Boss?” 

“I need you to go down to the morgue and find out if there’s anything unusual with Myra Tiggs autopsy.” 

“Unusual?”

“Find out if she was pregnant Ray,” Sam clarified. 

“The plonk was pregnant?” Ray said in astonishment. “They had her undercover pregnant?” 

“That’s what I need you to go find out.” Sam replied before turning back toward Lost and Found. When he got there two uniformed officers were leading Rajeem from the room and toward the cells. 

“Guv!” He exclaimed. 

“We’ve got enough to hold him Sam,” the Guv said. “Going over to see what Litton’s got and see if we can hold him longer.” 

“Guv!” 

“I want you to call down to her aunts,” the Guv continued. “See if she really was there.” 

“I don’t believe him Guv,” Sam argued. “This man killed her.” 

“I’m not sure he did Sam,” the Guv said when they were alone. “Showed him the pictures while you were checking on the autopsy. “Barely made it to the rubbish bin.” 

“Remorse after the fact,” Sam said sullenly. 

“Still don’t really seem like he believes she’s dead.” 

“Maybe he didn’t personally push her off the roof. Maybe he just ordered it?” Sam suggested. “Anyway we look at this he’s involved.” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this Tyler,” the Guv looked at the ceiling in disgust. “We’re waiting for the evidence.” 

“Evidence?” Sam argued. “What about gut instinct?” 

“Not any good without evidence according to one of the best coppers I know.” 

“Who’s that?” 

“Picky pain in the arse by the name of DI Sam Tyler.”


	9. Chapter Nine

Two hours later and Sam was pacing the length of CID. He looked over the room and saw Chris and Ray staring uncomfortably at paperwork on their desks, obviously not working and trying to look busy. Annie was at her own desk and not bothering to look busy except to gnaw at her thumbnail. Cynthia Baxter slunk in a few moments later, moved toward the back of the room and tried to appear invisible. 

“Cynthia?” Sam looked at her suspiciously. 

“DCI Hunt asked me to come up so everyone could get all the information in one go. Called it pooling information.”   
“The Guv wants to pool information?” Sam asked her incredulously. “Did he actually say that?” 

“Exact words from his mouth,” Cynthia raised her hands in mock defense. “Wanted me in CID so that everyone could report on what they found and then we’d all be in the same place. I thought he was putting one on for a bit and then I realized he was serious. So as soon as I was done I stopped to get the autopsy notes and came up here. Is that all right with you DI Tyler?” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “It’s fine. We’re just waiting on the Guv to figure out what’s going on. He’s talking with DCI Litton trying to get some information.” 

“Of course,” she nodded. 

“Baxter you’re here already?” The Guv announced as he stormed into CID. “Good. Maybe you aren’t quite as lazy arsed as I thought the forensics team required.” 

“Sorry to disappoint Sir,” she nodded. “Blame my mum, she never tolerated it.” 

“Sounds like a good woman,” the Guv nodded. Moving into the center of the room he swept everyone with a glare. “So people what do we have? Starting with,” he pointed a finger. “Chris and Ray.” 

“Plonk was preggers,” Ray answered. 

“I have the autopsy report,” Cynthia announced and flipped open a manila folder.

“What’s it got then Baxter?” 

“WPC Myra Tiggs, death from massive skull injury consistent with a fall from a building. No sexual assault but there are contusions on the arms and the back of the legs Sir, consistent with a struggle. According to the autopsy she was approximately 16 weeks gone.” 

“Myra was pregnant?” Annie asked suddenly. 

“Annie,” Sam broke in. “Maybe you should go help Phyllis on the desk. You don’t need to be here for this case.” 

“Sam,” she looked hurt. “I can do this.” 

He simply nodded at her and tried to smile. “All right then.” 

“So,” the Guv broke in. “Whoever was on the roof with Myra Tiggs they pushed her off it and she fought back?”

“Yes, DCI Hunt,” she confirmed. “They found skin under her fingernails. Whoever pushed her, she got a piece of him. He’ll have a scratch somewhere on him.” 

“So we strip search Assad,” Sam announced. “Find the scratch and that’s that.” 

“Um,” Cynthia shuffled her feet. “There’s a prob-”

“We’re not there yet Gladys,” the Guv cut in. “Tell me about your phone call with the aunt. Did you manage to get her?” 

“Yes Guv,” Sam answered. “According to her Aunt, a Miranda Williams, Myra came to visit her on Friday. Said some Asian bloke in a red convertible dropped her off.” 

“What’s Assad drive?” 

“Red Aston Martin Guv,” Chris answered. “Convertible.” 

“Aunt Miranda then went on to tell me that Myra borrowed her car on Sunday and drove herself back to Manchester. She was supposed to be back in London today. Obviously she wasn’t.” 

“What type of car?” The Guv asked. 

“Green Volkswagon,” Sam answered. 

“Right,” the Guv agreed. “According to DCI Litton they had no official notice that WPC Tiggs was in the family way. He also said their case on Mr. Assad was not going well. Whatever he was doing Myra Tiggs was not digging anything up. She’d told them as much and asked to be pulled out from undercover. Quite probably because of her condition. DCI Litton said her contact - DC Carsons - persuaded her to stay under for two more weeks due to rumors on the street that a big score was coming in, causing drug prices around the city to plummet. RCS assumed, for once possibly correctly, that it was coming in through Assad. He’s arranging for DC Carsons to brief us on the case more thoroughly this afternoon. So what I want now is this. Flashknickers you are to go visit the victim’s fiancee. You know the family, ask him as a friend to come in and talk with us. We need to rule out that Myra Tiggs was killed in a lover’s spat over her unborn child. Ray and Chris, I want you to find that Green Volkswagon and once they have Baxter I want you to tear it apart and find me some evidence about what happened. Tyler and I will talk to DC Carsons and then we are going to go sweat Assad until he tells us what we need to know.” 

“DCI Hunt,” Cynthia cut in. 

“Baxter you get back downstairs and poke around to find me something. You are my assigned picky pain for this case and now I want you to go be a picky pain even if that means proving Tyler right.” 

“Um,” she swallowed. “DCI Hunt?” 

“Off you go Baxter,” the Guv shooed at her with his hands and he turned to Sam then. 

“DCI HUNT!” Cynthia stamped her foot and when Sam looked over he could see the famous Cynthia Baxter temper in full display. 

“What?” The Guv roared back. 

“Rajeem Assad didn’t kill Myra Tiggs,” she announced.

“Yes he did,” Sam answered.

“No, he didn’t. Rajeem Assad is not the person who threw Myra Tiggs from that rooftop.” 

“What do you mean Baxter?’ The Guv asked suspiciously. 

“Look, he may be an absolute bastard.” She opened a manila folder. “He might be a drug dealing piece of scum.” She pulled out his fingerprint card and an enlarged photo. “He’s not Myra Tigg’s murderer though.” 

“He has to be,” Sam countered. “It’s Rajeem Assad. This is how he kills people.” 

“Not Myra Tiggs.” She shook her head. “Look. It’s impossible. The fingerprints,” she lay the photo and the card on Sam’s desk side by side and then motioned him and the Guv over. “Rajeem Assad’s fingerprints are Whorls, a very distinctive pattern. You see?” 

Sam looked carefully at the card. It was obvious, Rajeem Assad’s fingerprints were whorls. He knew they were whorls of course, he’d seen them before. Studied them like a puzzle trying to find the clues inside those prints. He looked over at the enlarged photo and his heart sank. “Those aren’t whorls,” he groaned. 

“No,” she shook her head. “They’re Tented Arch. This is an enlargement of the thumbprint I took from Myra Tiggs inner arm. Given how she was thrown I would assume it’s the left thumb because it was found on the right arm. It’s the clearest print I had. You look at it and it’s very clearly a Tented Arch with a scar running down the length of it. Rajeem Assad’s left thumb meanwhile is a very clean whorl with no distinguishing marks. The prints aren’t even the same so it’s not necessary to run a Galton’s test to look for matching points.” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “This isn’t right.” 

“I can send it to Scotland Yard DI Tyler,” she shrugged. “I’m telling you though it’s obvious. They’re going to send it back in two weeks with the same response. Rajeem Assad did not make the fingerprints on Myra Tiggs arms.” 

“Who are we looking for then Baxter? Or should I call you Holmes?” 

“I always preferred Moriarty actually,” she shrugged. “Seemed like a more interesting dinner date. More importantly, I have no idea who you are looking for. I can tell you what I do know. Whoever did make those prints has a distinctive left thumbprint. Once you get him I can do a preliminary match before it’s sent to Scotland Yard for further analysis. The local magistrate likes me so he’ll accept my preliminary findings with very little argument.” 

“Anything else?” Sam asked irritatedly. 

“Lots DI Tyler.” She shrugged. “From the angle of the prints on her arms, Myra Tigg’s attacker was taller than her. Whoever he was,” she motioned for Chris to come stand next to her. She turned to face him and put his hands around her upper arms. “He had to grab downward at a 45 degree angle. Given that I would say he’s most likely a head or more taller than her and was holding her at a distance of around 6 inches away. Like so,” she stepped back and everyone could see the way Chris’s hands were tilted. “Thank you DC Skelton. If you’ll stay here for just a moment more?” 

“Course,” Chris mumbled. 

“I can also tell you how the attack took place DI Tyler. DC Skelton if you’d like to come to the center of the room where we have some more space?” She walked to where all of CID could see her and turned to stand beside Chris. “Myra Tiggs went willingly onto the roof with her attacker. They’re standing side by side at first like so. Myra on the left.”   
“Wait how do you know that?” Ray asked. 

“Placement of the body on the ground and where her purse was found. Just watch.” Ray nodded. 

“So Myra’s standing to the left,” Cynthia continues. “She’s talking to the killer and she slides her purse off her shoulder and sets it on the rooftop. Means she intended for it to be a long conversation.” She mimics dropping a purse on the ground. 

“They talk for a while, at some point Myra’s attacker gets angry. Grabs her and spins her to face him.” She turned toward Chris and put his hands back on her arms.   
“They’re struggling,” Chris shook her gently back and forth. 

“Myra reaches up,” she tried to reach for Chris’s face but he instinctively grabbed at her wrists. “He grabs her wrists, which led to the second set of prints I lifted from the body. He’s got her by the wrists, she’s still struggling though.” Cynthia managed to get her nails up to Chris’s exposed collar bone and mimicked scratching downward. “She most likely wouldn’t have managed to scratch his face if he was holding her wrists but she would have gotten his neck or his chest.”   
“Assad’s not scratched up,” Guv retorted as he lit a smoke. 

“She got skin so whoever threw her is scratched up,” Cynthia answered. “Moving on,” she looked back at Chris. “She scratches him and he releases her for a second.” Chris let go of her wrists. 

“Myra makes a run for it,” she moved away behind Chris slightly. “She’s in high heels and she’s wobbly though,” Chris grabbed her arms again and pretended to pull her back.   
“He’s mad now, really mad. So the grab leaves the Chinese burns on her arms. He pushes her backwards,” she stepped back and let Chris follow her until she was leaned against Annie’s desk with her thighs resting against it. 

“He pushes her up to the ledge, giving her the bruises on her upper thighs. That point it’s just one solid push,” Chris released her arms and she sat back on Annie’s desk. 

“So we’re looking for a man who’s taller than Myra Tiggs, with a scratched chest or neck and a thumbprint that’s a tented arch with a scar down it?” Ray asked. 

“DS Carling you’re starting to impress me,” Cynthia nodded. “Say something stupid quick so my faith in humanity is restored.” 

“Pardon?” Ray wrinkled his brow. 

“That did it,” she smiled. “World’s righted again.” Turning she looked at Sam and Gene. “So, when DC Skelton and DS Carling find the car I will go out and tear it apart and then come find you with anything else I can find. Until then you are looking for a man with scratches, that knew Myra Tiggs and has a scarred left thumb. You find him I’ll match him.”

“Fine,” Guv nodded. “Cartwright the fiancee. Ray, Chris you find the car. Tyler and I are going to go pump the piece of RCS scum for information. Meet back here when you’re done and we’ll decide where to go from there. Baxter as soon as we have something for you we’ll call your lair.” 

“I’ll keep my plate clean,” she nodded and walked toward the door.


	10. Chapter Ten

“So,” Sam stared stonily at man across the table from him. “Tell us about the Assad case.” 

“I don’t think so,” DC Carsons sneered. “It’s my case.” 

“No,” the Guv responded. “It was Myra Tiggs case. Now Myra Tiggs is dead and we need to know what she was working on to find out who killed her. So spit it out.”   
Carsons looked over at DCI Litton who simply nodded in assent. “Tell Hunt what he needs to know Carsons.” 

“We know Assad is smuggling. After all where’s that type get the cash he was spreading around otherwise?” 

“Know what he was smuggling?” Sam asked brusquely.

“No, we thought it might be unbonded liquor for his clubs. Possibly drugs. Raided his clubs and everything appears to be above board.” 

“So why send a plonk in?” The Guv lit himself a smoke and leaned back in his chair. “If the man’s only crime is being flush why send a plonk in to investigate?” 

“Ask DCI Litton,” Carsons mumbled. “Was his idea.” 

“Litton?” The Guv turned to the other man. “What’s the story? Why you sending a plonk to do a man’s job?” 

“Assad likes brunettes,” Litton grumbled. “Thought it might give one of the plonks the chance to do something useful. Quit lazing around the station and distracted my men.” 

“You sent a plonk on an undercover operation because your officers are dogs?” Sam asked. “Why Myra Tiggs? Besides she’s a brunette?” 

“Plonks going to wave a tail like that around she should at least have the decency to be letting someone touch it. Keep it in the family.” 

“Keep it in the family?” Sam repeated. “I don’t know what to say to that.” 

“I do,” Guv answered. “Disgusting that is. Incest. Bad for morale.” 

“So you’re saying you sent Myra Tiggs on a dangerous undercover operation where you obviously hadn’t evaluated the risks, because you didn’t know what the risks were, all because she was engaged to someone outside the police force?”

“Wasn’t dangerous,” Carsons said petulantly. 

“She’s dead,” Guv answered. “Seems pretty dangerous to me.” 

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There were days he thought the Guv could possibly be the most procedurally inept officer he’d ever met who’d only gotten ahead because he could outdrink his supervisors and won consistently at darts. Then he met Litton and realized that Gene Hunt might just be the best officer the Manchester Constabulary had at it’s disposal. Albert fucking Einstein compared to Litton. 

“Tell us about the undercover operation,” Sam said softly. They needed to find something in this mess. 

“It wasn’t going well,” Carsons said. “We started Myra out as a cocktail waitress and she was so inept at that he demoted her to being a secretary at his shipping firm.” 

“Could be cause she was up the duff,” Guv answered. “Think about that?” 

“Well we didn’t know that did we?” Carsons answered defensively. “Didn’t bother to tell us that.” 

“You’re telling me that WPC Tiggs is undercover investigating a dangerous criminal, finds out she’s pregnant and didn’t request that you extract her from the operation?” Sam said skeptically. “Doesn’t seem likely.” 

“She didn’t mention it,” Carsons insisted. “She wanted Assad as much as anyone else did. She wanted out but we just needed her to stay a few more,” 

“A few more weeks,” Sam cut in. “Except a few weeks later Myra Tiggs was dead. Now I think you should tell us everything. How did you get her to stay a few weeks more on a case that wasn’t going anywhere? Because trust me we’ve looked at your files, your case was going no where.” 

“We were going to catch him in a slip up in a matter of days if she’d have just done her job!” Carsons slammed his fists on the table. “Assad’s bringing heroin into the city, we know it, Myra Tiggs was just too dumb to prove it!” 

“Right,” Guv nodded in total agreement. “Never trust a plonk. Too busy filing their nails and reading a magazine. Probably Assad’s baby if we looked. What do you think?”   
Sam just stared at the Guv. They had no proof of any of this! Assad hadn’t claimed the child was his, he’d pointed the finger at another man. Paternity testing was non existent in 1973 and there was no way to prove the child’s parentage. What was the Guv doing?

“Exactly,” Carsons nodded. “Wouldn’t put it past her. She was a crazy bird. Always whining about how she wanted out. There wasn’t anything there. Rajeem Assad was nothing but a really nice guy. Kept telling us she couldn’t find anything. Started out as a cocktail waitress and ends up his personal secretary?” 

“Sounds like she was doing more than bringing him a cuppa,” Guv agreed as he lit another smoke. “What do you think Sam? Sounds like a typical dozy plonk to me. How about you?” 

“Well Guv,” Sam wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Why don’t you tell us what happened at the last meeting you had with Myra then?” Guv suggested. “We know she came back to town to meet you Sunday night. Your notes say you met Myra Tiggs on that roof every Sunday night late. Why don’t you tell us what happened?” 

“She didn’t show,” Carsons answered and Sam tried to keep his face blank. “Waited around for hours and she never arrived. Left around 4:00.” 

“Right,” Guv agreed. “Guess that’s all we need for now DC Carsons. We’ll come find you if we need anything else.” Gene stuck his hand out familiarly to the other man.   
“Course,” DC Carsons answered.   
The Guv shook Litton’s hand and ushered both men from his office. Once the door was shut he turned to look at Sam. 

“He’s lying Guv,” Sam said. “Either he’s lying or he’s the world’s worst copper.” 

“Either could be possible,” Guv agreed. “In this case I think I’ll place my bets that he’s lying about something. Could just be wanting to keep something back regarding Assad’s smuggling operation. Keep the glory inside RCS. Downplay Tiggs death with a positive result on Assad’s smuggling.” 

“So what do you want to do?” Sam asked. 

“First we find out what the others have. Then it’s dinner. Me and you. Know a little Greek place I’ve been wanting to take you. Think you’ll like the food.” 

“Greek?” Sam made an impressed face. “Good thing I’m hungry. What then? Pub?” 

“Possibly,” Guv answered. “Hoping Cartwright will have convinced the fiancee to come in so we can talk to him tonight. Otherwise we could go to the pub. Or skip the pub and just go home. Early night in so we’re rested for knocking Assad’s head in tomorrow.” 

“Guv?” Phyllis knocked on the door. “Chris and Ray just radioed in. “They found the car a block away from the murder scene. Baxter’s going down now to go over it. Told Ray and Chris to stay there and keep an eye on her. Getting late for her to be there on her own. Annie radioed in as well. Fiancee will be here at 10 tomorrow to claim the body and talk to you. Said he was pretty upset Guv.” 

“Course,” Guv agreed. “Checking out then Phyllis?” 

“Better believe it Guv. See you at the pub?” 

“No,” Guv answered. “Tyler and I are going to get some dinner and then we’ll be back to go over the files some more. Want to find what Assad’s smuggling so we’ve got a reason to hold him.” 

“Course Guv,” Phyllis agreed. “Baxter said to pass on that she’s found something interesting in Myra Tiggs purse. Wants to see you about it first thing in the morning.” 

“I’ll see her first thing Phyllis,” Sam nodded. 

“Night then Guv, Boss.” 

“Night Phyllis,” they said in unison.


	11. Chapter Eleven

“Oh Tyler,” he woke to the sound of a voice chuckling somewhere outside the room. Faint flicker from the open doorway, blue light. “Oh little Sammy Tyler,” the voice laughed again. 

Sam slid from the bed silently so as not to wake Gene and padded downstairs to the parlour. The television was rolling on the test card girl and emitting an eery glow. The television hadn’t been on when they’d gone to bed. Hadn’t been on all night. Hadn’t been on for days, Sam thought to himself. Neither of them were too interested in anything besides the sports. 

“Little Sammy Tyler, your father was as arrogant as I always thought he was,” the voice continued and Sam tried to think where he’d heard it before. “Did he push you into it? I always wondered about that. Name the son Sam Tyler and then push him into the police force as well?” 

“What?” Sam looked at the screen. “My father’s name was Vic.” 

“Do you know what it’s like to stand here at your graveside and wonder about how your father feels knowing he’s caused this? Do you think wherever he is if he even cares Sammy?”

“My father has nothing to do with this.” Sam said with conviction. “None of this has to do with my father. What do you mean at my graveside? Am I? Oh God I’m actually dead. That’s what happened when I jumped. I’m dead.” 

“You know when I got out of prison I looked for him. Found nothing. Found Ruth Tyler though and her precious 14 year old boy. Spitting image of his father. Same attitude. Same brash. No surprise you decided to become a copper as well. Had to be just like that absent dad of yours. Since you wanted to be just like him I thought why not take my revenge on you as well?” 

“Who are you?” Sam whispered. 

“You know I watched you for years Sammy. Watched you move up the ranks in the police force. Had a few people in my hip pocket, worked hard to get them into position to watch you. Had an ace in the hole. Best not to tell you about that though. Not real important anyway.” 

“Assad?” Sam slammed his fist against the top of the console. “Who did you have on my team? Who?” 

“That father of your’s Sammy. You know he must have been a space man or something. Knew everything about me. About who I’d become. Even before I did. I almost feel sorry for you Sammy Tyler. That father, oh if you can get to him wherever you are now, you need to strangle that father of yours. You know he signed her death warrant don’t you? You always wanted to prove I killed Chelsea Wainright. Now that your dead it doesn’t matter if I tell you, I killed her but your father signed her death warrant years ago.” 

“No,” Sam shook his head violently. “No, you killed her because you knew what she was. You’re insane. You’ve never met my father. You have no idea who my father is.” 

“Was watching her for weeks once I found her. Once I had the chance it was nothing to offer her a drink and then dinner. Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. Was just going to toy with you originally. Her, well of course she had to die. But I wanted to see how long I could run you around acting crazy before I did it. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy it,” Assad chuckled. “Ripe as a peach she was. So very, very sweet. Did she let you hear those parts of the tape Tyler? Or did she edit those out? Did she let you hear just how sweet she was?” 

“Shut up,” Sam snarled as he pressed his forehead to the television screen. “Just shut up.”

“You knew how sweet she was though didn’t you? Watched the two of you meet a few times. Saw where those eyes of yours lingered. Enjoyed getting cozy with her over cups of coffee? Lunches? Persuade yourself that it was nothing more than meeting an undercover? Getting information to build your case? Is that why you had six extraction plans worked out?” 

“How did you know that?” Sam shrieked. “How did you know about the extraction plans? The only people who knew were,” Sam stared at the screen. 

“It was so easy taking her,” Assad continued. “We knew you’d be out of the car, around the corner, fighting out your problems with Maya Roy. Knew the other officers were worthless without you around to keep an eye on them. Drove her right out the front gate and down the street. Didn’t even bother to hide her. Drove right past you and you had your back turned to the street as we went by, as she sat there screaming into the gag and staring at you from the back window. Too busy to even notice her. Taken for granted by DCI Sammuel Tyler Jr.again.” 

“No!” Sam screamed angrily. “That’s not what happened!” Had it though? He knew he’d turned his back to the street, didn’t want to be recognized so he stood staring in an electronic shop window. He’d have seen a car going by. Would have seen her in that back seat. Wouldn’t he? 

“You know what was almost as easy? No never mind,” Assad chuckled. “We’ll leave that for my next visit. Best if I go now Tyler. Don’t worry I’ll be back to keep you company again. Here, have some daisies. Old lady two graves over won’t miss them and that headstone of yours is looking pretty bare.” 

“NO!” Sam screamed at the television. “Get back here Assad! You tell me what you did! Tell me who on my team was bent!” 

“Sam?” Gene mumbled from the doorway. “What are you doing screaming at the telly?’ 

“Nothing,” Sam answered shakily. “It was nothing. Just a bad dream.” 

“Dead plonks?” Gene asked as he stumbled over to sit behind Sam on the floor and tugged the smaller man into his lap. 

“How’d you know?” 

“Keep seeing them eyes of hers myself,” Gene answered as he buried his face into Sam’s neck. “All that blood on the pavement. Seen it before of course. Bodies off buildings, dead birds, something about that though,” Gene shuddered. 

“I know,” Sam agreed as he pulled Gene’s arms around his waist. “You never forget the sight of it. I see both of them. Know that somehow we missed something, know there should be some way to stop Assad before it happens but we never do.” 

“We will get him Sam,” Gene answered. “We’re going to stop him. This scum will not keep littering the streets of my city with dead women.” 

“Course,” Sam agreed. 

“For that,” Gene sighed. “I need you Tyler. Need you to tear through that evidence like you do. Need you to make sense of what Baxter’s rambling on about. Need you to see the things in the files the rest of us miss.” 

“We’ll get him Gene,” Sam agreed. 

“I need you to keep believing that Sam,” Gene kissed his neck. “I need you to believe that we will convict Assad of this.” 

“I do,” Sam agreed. 

“Good,” Gene agreed. “Now lets get some sleep so we can break that bastard tomorrow.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Cynthia?” Sam called out and heard his voice echo through the empty basement that housed forensics. “Cynthia? Come on I know you’re always here this early.” 

“Stalking me now?” A voice asked from behind him and Sam turned to see Cynthia behind him carrying a cup of coffee. “Didn’t expect you so early DI Tyler.” 

“Call me Sam,” he answered. “And sorry. I couldn’t help getting here early. Don’t like having a case like this sitting cold all night. You have something for us?” 

“I do,” she agreed. “Actually have something of a mystery for you. Come over to my workbench.” Sam followed behind silently. “Stand there,” she motioned to a spot. 

“Mystery?” Sam asked as he moved to follow her directions. “What sort of mystery?” 

“Why was Rajeem Assad playing with tar and why did Myra Tiggs think it was important?” 

“What?” Sam was perplexed. 

“Ok, starting over.” Cynthia started. “I started in the middle didn’t I? Sorry. I do that sometimes. So going back to the beginning. First, the car was clean. Nothing. Lifted prints off of it for Myra Tiggs but nothing else. Not even a suitcase in the boot.” 

“The car was clean?” 

“Car was clean.” Cynthia confirmed. “So before I rushed out to look the car over I was processing Myra Tiggs’ purse. Would have done it earlier but I was too busy processing the body. It took longer than I expected to get the prints.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Sam nodded. “Rather you get it right the first time.” 

“Good to know,” Cynthia agreed. “Anyway, I started processing the purse yesterday afternoon after our meeting. Found mostly the usual things you find in a purse. The wallet we found earlier, warrant card, two sets of keys, one set matched the Volkswagon and the other look like they belong to a flat. Tube of lipstick, hairbrush, the usual.”   
“And this is important how?” Sam asked cautiously. 

“It’s not. Not in the slightest bit important. What’s important is this envelope,” Cynthia brandished a white legal envelope in front of him. “She slit the lining on the inside of the purse and this was in the bottom, sitting flush so that you couldn’t see it. I wouldn’t have noticed it but I was poking around in the bottom of the bag with tweezers looking for fibers. Put on gloves.” 

Sam nodded and followed her orders, sliding on a double pair of surgical gloves. “Very good Inspector,” she nodded. “Someone trained you well.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Sam smirked. “But back to the envelope.” 

“Back to the envelope.” Cynthia agreed. “The envelope itself isn’t that interesting. The only prints on it are a preliminary match to Myra Tiggs. So once I’d processed it I opened it up and that’s when things got interesting. Six separate pieces of paper. One’s a work schedule for a restaurant called the Maharaja’s Retreat. Another is some personal correspondance. Random pieces of a business proposal, jotted notes about errands. Nothing that I can see that links them.”

“Nothing?” Sam asked. 

“Nothing except these,” Cynthia motioned to black smudges on each piece of paper. The business proposal,” she pulled out a piece of evidence and placed it on the top. “It has Rajeem Assad’s fingerprint in the black smudge. It’s a clear print so no worries identifying it there. Once we’ve determined the substance and what it’s purpose is I’ll forward it to Scotland Yard for confirmation.” 

“What is it?” Sam asked curiously. 

“I took a scraping from each,” Cynthia nodded. “You can see the slides under the microscope if you wish but they’re all the same.” 

“What is it?” 

“Black tar with flecks of brown powder embedded in it. I’d like you to arrange DCI Hunt’s permission for me to document a piece of evidence and then allow a pharmacist to test it to confirm what it is.” 

Sam glanced down at the sample in the microscope and squinted at it. Black, sticky residual tar with brown flecks inside of it. “It’s black tar heroin,” Sam looked over at her.

“My assumption is from looking at it that it’s an extremely high grade, notice the flecks still have black inside them. Minor processing before it was shipped.” 

“So how did Rajeem Assad get black tar heroin on his fingers? You don’t think he’s handling it himself do you?” 

“Could be, keeps the organization small it’s harder to infiltrate it with undercover officers.” Cynthia suggested. “I think I might know how they’re transporting it as well.” 

“How?” 

“Hardened bricks. Some of the papers aren’t sticky, they’re powdery. Like hardened tar that’s flaking. Wherever they’re originating they’re being baked into bricks and then shipped in, possibly legally as regular old tar base. Sold in bricks to be remelted upon arrival.” 

“Except,” Sam looked at her and smiled. “You want to keep the black tar in place on the heroin. Then you only warm it enough to soften the tar, shape it into rocks and then wrap it up in packets and sell it on the street.” 

“That’s my assumption yes,” she agreed. “Of course I can’t say conclusively about anything until DCI Hunt allows me to test the residue for heroin.” 

“Cynthia you are a genius!” Sam pulled her into a tight hug and rocked back and forth. “You are an absolute genius.” He reached out and grabbed the sides of her face, kissing both of her cheeks soundly. “If there was a saint of kick arse science chicks she would be named Cynthia.” 

“Thank you DI Tyler.” She blushed. “Glad to know it was the information you needed.” 

“Don’t be modest Cynthia!” Sam crowed again in delight. “You are a genius. You’ve cracked this and now Rajeem Assad’s going to jail. If I was,” Sam stopped. “If you weren’t married I’d be in love with you.” 

“Um ok DI Tyler,” she nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Tyler quit flirting with the bird before she stabs you.” The Guv announced angrily. “You’re acting like a loony tart.” 

“Is he always like this?” Cynthia asked the Guv. 

“Touchy feely, hyperactive and overly engrossed in science and detail?” 

“Emoting on people.” She answered. 

“Frequently. A right little emotional bit of baggage our DI Tyler.” The Guv agreed as he reached out and grabbed Sam by the collar and jerked him slightly backwards. “Want to press charges on him for it?” 

“Nah,” she shrugged. “He’s just pleased that we might have an angle on Rajeem Assad.” 

“What’s that?” The Guv asked. 

“Tar,” Sam bounced excitedly. 

“Tar?” 

“Tar,” Sam confirmed. “He’s shipping preprocessed heroin into Manchester inside bricks of hardened tar.” 

“Why tar?” The Guv asked. “Hard to get that up a needle ain’t it?” 

“Not going up a needle,” Sam answered. “Tar makes it smoke able.” 

“Smoking it?” 

“Break it up into rocks,” Cynthia broke in. “Put it into a pipe, light the rock, inhale the fumes like you would tobacco. Tar works the same with the heroin as it does with your fags.” 

“What are you talking about woman? Me smokes don’t have road tar in them.” 

“Yeah they do,” she shrugged. “Put tar in with the tobacco to hold it together. The tar is flammable and when you inhale the smoke the tar is the transmission device for the tobacco to your lungs. Gets trapped there and makes your lungs a mess as well. Same idea with the heroin. Can market it to the squeamish that way.” 

“The squeamish?” 

“Don’t have to stick yourself with a needle to get high,” Sam answered. “Easier to get high on the go as well. Can’t take a syringe with you everywhere might get stuck, needle might break. Easy to slip a pipe in your pocket though, no one notices.” 

“So you two are saying the plonk had Assad?” Guv asked. “She had the evidence to bring him in?” 

“Hidden in the bottom of her purse,” Cynthia nodded. “I’ll contact RCS and tell them as soon as we’ve finished.” 

“Don’t,” Gene wagged a finger at her. “Don’t tell Litton anything. You are only to report to me or DI Tyler on this, understand?” 

“This is RCS’s case DCI Hunt,” Sam could see the gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Shouldn’t I report this to DCI Litton?” 

“Myra Tiggs murder is more important,” Guv answered. “We need to explore the possibilities that this evidence is what got her killed and if we bring Litton in it’ll just slow us down in finding a fellow officer’s killer.” 

“So I should play dumb with DCI Litton and stall him on the evidence if he comes looking?” Her smile was almost as broad as Gene’s then.   
“Good girl,” Guv replied as he tugged Sam toward the door. “We’ll send Skelton down with the fiancee’s prints as soon as we have them.” 

“I’ll be waiting DCI Hunt.” 

“Call me Guv, Cindyloo.” The Guv replied as they reached the door. Sam turned to gape at the two of them. Cindyloo? She was going to, Sam stopped. He’d heard a Superintendent once refer to her as - 

“You know Cindyloo Who,” the Guv smirked. “Gladys here is right about one thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“If there was a saint of kick arse girl science geeks it’d be you Saint Cindyloo.” 

Sam felt his jaw drop. No, no, no, no. Couldn’t be. When he’d first been starting on the force he’d heard a Superintendent refer to Chief Forensic Investigator Cynthia Baxter as Saint Cindyloo Who. She’d just laughed and told him that being a Superintendent didn’t earn him the right to use that nickname. Only the very best got to call her anything besides Dr. Baxter.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“Interrogation of Michael Shrivers, October 19, 1973. The time is 10:01 am and present are Michael Shrivers, DI Sam Tyler, DCI Gene Hunt.” Sam said into the tape recorder as he stared across the table in Lost and Found at Myra Tiggs fiancee. 

Michael Shrivers stared back at Sam blankly and then looked at the Guv before he reached into his shirt pocket for a smoke. The Guv reached over to light it for him and Sam could see the man’s hand trembling slightly. Red rimmed green eyes swept down to the cigarette and then back up to the Guv. “Thank you,” the man said thickly. 

“Not at all,” Guv replied. “Hate to do this but got to be done. You understand?” 

“Course,” Michael nodded. “You have to question everyone about Myra’s murder. Just doing your job.” 

“How long did you know Myra?” Sam asked quietly. 

“Don’t know,” Michael shrugged. “We’re four years apart in age so I guess almost 25 years. Grew up next door to each other. Mums were best friends.” 

“Grew up together?” Sam swallowed slightly. 

“Used to cause trouble for her with her boyfriends when I was home from University,” he smiled weakly then. “Show up and scare them off, that sort of thing. Stuff you do when you’re kids.” 

“I know,” the Guv smiled wistfully then. “Used to do that to me cousin as well. Back when I was first in uniform I’d drive by the school and scare all the boys away. Way of taking care of her. That what you did with Myra?” 

“Yeah,” Michael shrugged. “That’s what it started out as at least. Right after she graduated University though realized that protecting her might not be my only motivation. Wasn’t a good excuse either. Me, protecting a police officer?” 

“What do you do for a living Mr. Shriver?” Sam asked. 

“Stock broker,” he said absently. “Why?” 

“No reason,” Sam smiled sympathetically. “Just trying to be thorough.” 

“Tell us about you and Myra,” the Guv broke in. “How were things going there?” 

“Until she went undercover?” Michael answered. “Fine. House was almost finished. Wedding was almost planned. Then she went undercover at DCI Litton’s request.” 

“How did you feel about that?” Sam asked. “Couldn’t have been thrilled about it.” 

“I wasn’t but it was only supposed to be two weeks. Two weeks and in return Myra got a month’s vacation with pay for our honeymoon. She wasn’t planning on coming back to work afterwards anyway but she decided DCI Litton could pay for part of our honeymoon. Said with what she’d get with that month’s pay and the extra overtime she’d earn undercover,” he looked down then. “Said the money would come in handy with the extra expenses from the wedding.” 

“Just like a girl huh?” Guv sympathized. “I remember my missus drove me up the wall with all the wedding planning. Cost a small fortune too.”

“Didn’t matter anyway,” Michael responded. “Put the wedding off since her case went over the top of it. Ended up with a civil ceremony at the courthouse. Planned on doing it proper once she was done with this case.” 

“You’re married?” Sam asked. “You have documentation for that right?” 

“Got my marriage license,” Michael answered. “Thought they might need it to release the body to me.” 

“Not important right now,” the Guv waived a hand. “They’ll be some extra paperwork you need to fill out later, deals with compensation to the family for death in the line of duty, that sort of thing.” 

“Whatever I have to sign,” Michael nodded blankly. 

“Hate to bring this up,” Guv sighed. “You did know about your Missus though right?” 

“About my Missus?” Michael nodded. “You mean about my Missus expecting?” 

“Take that as a yes then.” The Guv agreed. 

“Why did you let her stay undercover?” Sam asked. “That’s what confuses me. Why let her stay undercover like that?” 

“We didn’t have a choice!” Michael snapped. “She went to DC Carsons, told him she was expecting. Asked him to bring her out from undercover.” 

“According to DC Carsons they didn’t know she was pregnant,” Guv countered. 

“Like hell he didn’t,” Michael slammed his fist on the table angrily. “I was there when Myra told him. Begged him personally to take her off this case.” 

“So why didn’t he?” Sam asked. 

“Claimed the case was too valuable. Told Myra if she walked away from it he’d bring her up on charges. Send her to prison.” 

“Prison?” Sam looked at him. “What was he going to send her to prison for?” 

“Claimed she’d be obstructing justice.” Michael answered. “That she was already inside on this case and if she left they would never get another chance at Assad. Claimed she’d be helping him to evade justice. Sat in my house, treated my wife like she was some sort of criminal, accused her of getting pregnant so she didn’t have to do her job.” 

Sam looked over at the Guv and then at Michael. There was no way that DC Carsons and DCI Litton could have made something like that even remotely stick on Myra Tiggs. He could see Litton and his goon squad threatening her though to get what they wanted. The Guv nodded at Sam without saying anything. He was thinking the same, Sam could tell. 

“Mr. Shriver,” Sam grimaced. “Can you tell me what happened this past weekend? When was the last time you saw your wife?” 

“Sunday night,” he answered bleakly. “Monday morning, I guess it’s better to say. She let Assad take her to her aunt’s in London, told him she was going out of town for a while. Stayed over the night and then drove back home in her aunt’s Volkswagon.” 

“We found it,” the Guv confirmed. 

“Spent Saturday and Sunday together. Picked out paint,” he stopped and took another drag from his cigarette. “Picked out paint colors for the nursery. Spent Sunday with her mother. Went home, around 3 she wakes me up to tell me she’s going to meet DC Carsons. Has all the evidence he needs to convict Assad and get her out from undercover. I offered to take her but,” he took another shaky drag. 

“But?’ Sam prompted gently. 

“But she said it was safer for everyone if she went alone. Less chance of being noticed by herself. Told me she was going to meet Carsons on the roof at 3:30, she should be home no later than 5:00. When she didn’t come home I thought maybe Carsons had her at the station questioning her more so they could pull her out. Didn’t start to worry until her mum called me at work. Told me you’d sent that WPC she roomed with at the Academy to let her know Myra was dead.” 

“Right,” Guv announced. “Sorry for your loss Mr. Shriver. Phyllis at the desk will get you the necessary paperwork. I don’t think we’ll need you for anything else.” 

“Course,” Michael agreed. “Thank you for looking into this DCI Hunt. Feel better knowing it’s not DCI Litton looking into it.” 

“Sorry for your loss,” Sam agreed as he led Michael to the door. Once it was closed he turned around and looked at the Guv. “That’s the nicest I’ve ever seen you act toward somebody we’ve questioned. You were actually compassionate Guv.” 

“No harm being respectful,” the Guv shrugged. “Wife was a police officer, died in the line of duty, man deserves a little respect even if he was insane enough to let her work.” 

“Sounds like he didn’t want to,” Sam answered. He decided to completely disregard the arguement about whether or not women had a place in the workforce. “Said she was leaving as soon as they went on their honeymoon. Litton bullied her into staying though.” 

“That’s true,” Guv agreed. “Not something I would put past Litton, the scum. What I’m wondering though is this my little deputy dawg,” Sam grimaced at the nickname. He much preferred Gladys or Dorothy any day. “Did Litton know or was it just Carsons? Michael never mentioned talking with Litton, all he said was Carsons bullied Myra into staying.” 

“You think the DC had motivation of his own?” Sam asked. 

“I’m saying it would make the curvy Kimberly’s statements much more revealing if it did.” The Guv answered. 

“So who do I let you beat up first?” Sam asked. “Carsons or Assad?” 

“Much as I’d love to beat up the drug dealer,” the Guv answered. “I think it’s best we start with our own. Get him in here early before Litton shows up.” 

“You don’t think Litton’s here?” Sam asked. 

“Nope, spends Wednesday mornings on the golf course. He won’t be in until lunch.” 

“Let’s get Carsons in here then,” Sam replied. “I think we’re both interested to know what his game was.” 

“It certainly weren’t poker,” the Guv replied as he pushed out the door with Sam following behind.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“Guv!” Annie was waiting for them in CID once they’d taken Michael back to the desk. “Forensics has something for you.” 

“Forensics has something?” Sam asked her. “Any ideas what?” 

“No,” Annie answered. “She just called up here and said the moment my overly emotional DI and the handsome beast in camel hair known as the Guv got back to CID I was to send them down to her secret evil lair, immediately.” 

“She didn’t say that did she?” Sam asked. 

“She did,” Annie insisted. “I thought it was a prank caller at first and then I had Phyllis double check. It came from forensics, so I called back to check that it wasn’t someone pulling a joke and she repeated it. Said to tell my overly emotional, but adorably trim DI to get his butt downstairs and bring the handsome beast that made her swoon along with him so she could drool.” 

Sam turned around to see the Guv chuckling. “What is so funny?” Sam asked. “You really think this is appropriate behavior in a police station?” 

“Course I do Gladys,” Guv replied as he walked toward the door. “Isn’t this what you wanted? A closer working relationship between CID and forensics?” 

“Not quite what I had in mind,” Sam grumbled as he made to follow the Guv out the door. “I meant for us to collaborate on cases not for the forensics investigator to evaluate how trim I am.” 

“Think you’re jealous she drools over me and not you,” Guv announced as he pushed open the door imperiously. 

“No,” Sam said softly. “I think she might be blind.” 

“Sam?” Annie tugged at his sleeve gently. “What’s going on between the Guv and the forensics investigator? Are they having some sort of thing now that his Missus has taken off?” 

“What?” Sam looked at her and tried to pay attention.

“Well that’s the rumor,” Annie whispered. “Guv’s wife left cause he’d taken up with one of the plonks. But nobody’s talking so I thought maybe it was the forensics lady with the way she called up here so brazen.” 

“No,” Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean I know,” he stumbled. “Look, Guv was giving Cynthia a bit of a hard time early and now she’s giving it back. Let him know where they stand.” 

“Right,” Annie agreed. “Hope the Guv knows that.” 

“Sure he does,” Sam answered as he hurried to catch up with the Guv. People were talking around the station about the Guv’s divorce? Talking about him having an affair? Did Annie know something? Sam knew he wasn’t having an affair with one of the WPC’s and he couldn’t remember the Guv flirting with anyone in particular but could the other man have done so just to keep their relationship a secret? What would they do if someone found out? In 2006 it would have been awkward, only slightly more than he and Maya were but awkward still. Sleeping with a superior officer always was. Causing the superior officer’s divorce - even more so. But in 1973? What would happen if someone found out? A transfer for one of them surely? They couldn’t fire them but they could make their lives miserable, deny either of them promotions, force Gene into early retirement. The possible bad outcomes were endless. 

“Took you long enough Gladys,” Sam heard the Guv announce as soon as he pushed open the stairwell door and stumbled into the corridor outside forensics. “Had to weep to Cartwright about not being the prettiest girl at the ball?” 

“No,” Sam answered and leaned against the wall next to Gene so their shoulders were touching. “Had to hear all the gossip about the affair you’re having with a mystery plonk and how your Missus left because of it. She thought Cynthia Baxter might be the plonk.” 

“Not exactly my type,” Gene retorted as he lit a cigarette. “Nice tits and all,” he shrugged. 

“Well that’s certainly a plus on a woman,” Sam said sarcastically. “Doesn’t matter how smart she is, just as long as she’s got nice tits. Real sensitive Guv. No wonder they all flock round you like they do.” 

“Didn’t say she weren’t smart Sammy,” Guv replied as he exhaled. “That’s the problem.” 

“Don’t like smart women?” 

“Not when it’s all that gay boy science. Dangerous thing for a woman.” 

“Dangerous?” Sam asked. 

“Dated a girl once, just out of the academy. Little blonde, big green eyes, pouty lips, looked a little like Marilyn Monroe before she got older.” 

“You dated a blonde bombshell?” Sam asked, disbelief evident in his tone. 

“Just before me Missus came into the picture. Her being a bombshell doesn’t have anything to do with it. Well a bit but not much.” 

“Not much?” 

“She was at the local hospital, nursing student. Had some gay boy science class she had to take. Bunch of the medical types in the class with her.” 

“Medical students?” Sam prompted. 

“Yeah, them. Came to see her at the school one day found her in the library with her head close together with one of them over some book.” 

“Studying?” 

“That’s what she said. Probably were, now I think about it as a grown up. Nineteen year old didn’t think that way. Thought he was making a pass. Beat him up. Two days later she cooks me dinner to thank me for being such a good man and taking care of her.” 

“You beat up her study partner and she cooked you a romantic dinner?” Sam was definitely confused now. How was the Guv managing to do so well with women? Sam had always tried to be everything girls said they wanted and failed meanwhile the Guv is everything they’re supposed to hate and they fall all over him! Come to think of it - why had he fallen for him? 

“Not really,” Guv mumbled. “Before dessert ever got on the table I’ve got my head in the toilet, puking my guts up.” 

“Lousy cook?” 

“Syrup of Ipecat,” Gene muttered and his cheeks flushed. “Lifted it from the hospital and dosed me with it.” 

Sam looked up when he heard peals of laughter from the doorway. “That’s priceless,” Cynthia giggled. “Totally irrelevant to why I brought you down here but priceless.” 

“Glad to know you approve Saint Cindyloo,” Gene said gruffly. 

“I’d have used bitter cascara,” she shrugged. “But then again I like playing with organics. More importantly my big hunk of goodness in camel hair, I have a problem I need you to sort out.” 

“Problem?” Sam asked. “What sort of problem?” 

“One of your detectives has been handling evidence without gloves. Contaminated the body. Prints I got aren’t worth anything now.” 

“Who touched the body?” The Guv growled. 

“A DC Carsons,” she said looking at the manila file on her workbench. “I was going through all the evidence we collected from the scene plus everything we got from RCS, making sure I had all the prints accounted for. Everything neat and organized for you. Had DC Carsons fingerprints on some of the papers Myra Tiggs had passed on to her contact in RCS.”

“That would be,” Sam started and the Guv stopped him. 

Cynthia looked at them. “Anything I’m missing you want to fill me in on?” 

 

“Not yet,” the Guv answered. “Finish what you were saying.”   
“Well the fingerprint looked familiar,” she continued. “Knew I’d seen it before. Turned out I had,” she pulled out DC Carsons’ fingerprint card and then the enlargement of the prints she’d taken from Myra Tiggs. “They’re the same print. Same thumb.”

“You’re sure?” Sam asked. 

“We’ll have to send it to Scotland Yard for verification but I’d say the probability of two men having the same fingerprint pattern, complete with scarred thumb would be somewhere on the order of a few million to one. So really unlikely and it just gets more unlikely if you add in that both would know the deceased. So the fingerprint I was so sure about is from a DC. I assume he was the first responder on the scene? I’d write it off like that in my notes but I don’t have his report from the scene to verify he touched the body. So Guv I need you to please get your DC’s statement and then beat him to a pulp to teach him not to touch a body without gloves.” 

“Carsons wasn’t a first responder,” Sam said quietly. 

“Pardon?” 

“Carsons wasn’t on scene at the murder,” Sam added. 

“He’s the prints on the body,” Cynthia argued. “He had to be at the scene. Oswald’s men were all wearing gloves, I was wearing gloves, no one else touched the body before I processed it. He had to have been on the scene, he couldn’t have contaminated a body while I was with it.” 

“What time does Oswald put the time of death?” The Guv asked. 

“Between 2-4:30 in the morning. She hadn’t completely come out of rigor yet when I was examining her at the scene and that was at 5:30ish.”

“Tiggs’ husband said she didn’t leave until 3,” Sam added. “Half an hour’s drive to the warehouse put her there at 3:30. But Carsons claimed he was there until 4 and she didn’t show up.” 

“How could the two of them have missed each other? If he left at 4 and she fell from the same roof no more than 30 minutes later they’d have passed each other at some point. Her car was between the station and the warehouse. They would have bumped into each other.” 

“They bumped into each other,” the Guv said softly. “Bumped her so hard she fell off the roof and smashed her skull in.” 

“You’re saying DC Carsons killed WPC Myra Tiggs? The evidence fits with it but why?” 

“Mean to find that out Cindyloo. Anyone else come asking about this evidence?” 

“To forensics? The gay boy science club with the crazy lesbian haunting it?” She scoffed. “Never! Might get infected with something.” 

“Lesbian?” Guv raised a brow. 

“That’s what they tell me,” she smiled. “Never met her though. Be nice to have another girl around. Seems like I’m always surrounded by men.” 

“I see her I’ll send her round,” Guv answered. “Meanwhile you’ve found nothing on the body, nothing in the purse, a big fat load of nothing, you understand me Baxter?” 

“Yes Guv,” she nodded. 

“I want you to keep your microscope warm because Skelton’s going to bring you some evidence soon and I want you to process it and nothing else until it’s finished. You understand me?” 

“Perfectly. Your cases are my top priority.” She agreed. 

“Your cases are top priority,” he heard Chelsea whisper. “I make sure to work them exclusively so that they get processed fast and right. Don’t trust important work to the others.” 

“Tyler!” He looked at the Guv. 

“What?” 

“Pay attention! Run upstairs and tell Carling, Chris and Flashknickers to take some plods and search Rajeem Assad’s office and warehouse. Tell them that Skelton is to bring all the evidence directly to Baxter.” 

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked perplexed. 

“I’m going to drag Carsons into Lost and Found and you’ll meet us there.” 

“Then shouldn’t we wait to search Assad’s office?” 

“No, if they’re linked, if Carsons is bent, then he might have someone else in RCS working with them. We don’t want the other one tipping off Assad’s office so that they destroy evidence while we’re interrogating Carsons.” 

“You think it’s safe to send them there?” 

“Tell Cartwright that she’s to tell them they’re looking to things related to Myra Tiggs death. That Mr. Assad has complied completely with our investigation and we’ve ruled him out as a suspect. Tell them we think it was a, what did you call it again? A hate crime because she was so close with Assad. Don’t have to tell them we’re looking for evidence of drug smuggling at the same time.” The Guv answered. 

“Right,” Sam agreed. “Get his own people to help hang him out to dry.” 

“You just might make a detective yet Sammy boy,” the Guv agreed and then turned to look at Cynthia. “What do you think?” 

“Can’t take him serious when he’s dressed like some type of disco hopping rent boy, sorry.” 

“Will you two try to maintain some professionalism?” Sam snapped as he stormed out the door. “We’re investigating the murder of another officer!” Turning he stared hard at his DCI and the forensics investigator who were both trying to keep straight faces. “And I do not look like some sort of disco hopping rent boy!” He ignored the laughter he heard behind him as he huffed into the stairwell. Let the Guv and his new friend make jokes, he’d make sure the police work got done.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“All right Carsons,” the Guv stormed into Lost and Found. “Talk. Talk now and talk fast.” 

“What do you want?” Carsons sneered. “DCI Litton isn’t in yet. Can’t tell you anything about the case until he gets here. Standard procedure.” 

“The case?” The Guv asked. “You mean the Rajeem Assad smuggling case?” 

“Well what other case could we be here talking about?” Carsons asked suspiciously. 

“Oh,” Sam looked over at the Guv and smiled. “Did we forget to tell you? DC Carsons you are under arrest for the murder of Myra Tiggs. I’ll skip the whole staying silent thing because by now you should know it.”

“What are you talking about?” Carsons scoffed as he lit a smoke. Sam couldn’t contain his grin as the Guv reached over and stubbed it out. 

“None of that in here mind, my DI’s got a sensitive nose. Worries all day about the lung cancer getting him.” 

“Tell us about Myra Tiggs,” Sam interrupted. “The truth this time.” 

“Told you everything,” Carsons muttered. 

“Wrong answer,” Sam raised one finger. “You got two more tries before I let my Guv get nasty and believe me the rumors aren’t anywhere near the truth. This one,” he nodded at Gene. “Once let Toolbox put a hungry ferret down a drug dealer’s pants. Didn’t even flinch. You killed a pregnant WPC, what do you think he’s going to do to you? What happened with Myra Tiggs?” 

“You’ve got nothing.” Carsons sneered. “Absolutely nothing. You can’t find any leads so now you’re persecuting RCS.” 

“That’s two,” Sam raised another finger. “You know we’ve got you Carsons. My Guv he’s a hothead but me they call me the picky pain DI for a reason. Waited till we had enough evidence to even bring you in here. We know you were there when she was killed, we’ve got witness statements that tell us she left her home that night to go and meet you. She had evidence in her handbag meant for you. We know you knew she was pregnant and, this is the best part Carsons. We’ve got another victim. Says you raped her with a loaded service revolver all the while calling her Myra. She can identify you, you idiot. So why don’t you tell me exactly what happened with WPC Tiggs?” 

“You’ve got a witness?” Carsons scoffed. “You’ve got a prozzie. No one is going to believe a prozzie over a copper.”

Sam shrugged and looked at the Guv. “I tried. Guess it’s your turn.” He was stunned when the Guv simply sat down across the table from Carsons and lit two cigarettes, handing the first to Carsons. “You know she ain’t never getting on the stand Carsons.” 

“That’s right,” Sam could see the man smiling around the fag. “You’ve got nothing.” 

“No,” the Guv countered. “We’ve got you. The thing is Kimberly is never going on the stand because there is no way that Litton is going to let you drag it out that far. He’s not going to take the risk of you taking him down with you. So why don’t you tell us what really happened before Litton and Rathbone slit your throat?” 

Sam watched the two of them as Carsons glared defiantly at him and then wilted in front of the Guv. “It were an accident,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to kill her.” 

“I know you didn’t son,” the Guv said sympathetically. “According to your record you’re a good copper. Good coppers don’t just push WPC’s off of roofs and ruin their cases in one go. Now tell me what happened.” 

“Myra and I grew up together.” Carsons muttered. “Knew each other from school.” 

Sam looked at the Guv. Michael Shrivers hadn’t mentioned knowing Myra’s contact. “You went to school together with her and Michael Shrivers?” 

“Didn’t know him,” Carsons answered. “He was a few years ahead. Barely knew Myra. Weren’t in the same crowd me and Myra. Didn’t have the money to keep up with her friends. Myra she was nice though. Smart too. Had a part time job in the same restaurant as her. She waited tables and I washed dishes. Helped me study for the entrance exam to the academy.” 

“Sounds like a good bird,” the Guv agreed. “So why did you go and kill a good bird? Sounds like you liked her.” 

“I did.” Carsons agreed. “Saw her around quite a bit once I joined the force. Got her out of trouble on occasion. Speeding tickets, made sure she never got taken in when they sent us out to break up the rowdy college parties, that sort of thing.” 

“You helped Myra Tiggs out then?” Sam asked. “Liked her a lot didn’t you?” 

“Adored her,” Carsons agreed. “Didn’t matter though. Why’s,” he swallowed. 

“Why’s a girl like that going to date a penniless copper like you?” Sam asked knowingly and then smiled as the Guv looked at him. “I understand.” He nodded and looked back at the Guv. “Guv does too I’m sure.” 

“Yeah,” Guv pursed his lips and nodded. “Course I do. What copper doesn’t? Long hours, low pay, not exactly what a girl wants to sign up for. Worse with them college birds. You don’t have the schooling they do. Don’t seem as smart as the ones she knew from University. Bird like that won’t throw a bucket of water on you if you’re on fire.” 

Carsons nodded then and Sam could see that he was opening up slightly. “Go on Carsons,” he prompted. “Tell us everything.” 

“She got out of college and couldn’t find a job,” Carsons smiled. “Working as a secretary for an accountant. Told me once when I saw her that she was the one doing all the accounting and all he did was snore away drunk on the couch and chase girls. I mentioned we’re always looking for smart birds to join the Women’s Division. Be desk work and with the way the DCI’s hate typing and sorting and the paperwork she’d be running the whole place’s budget before the year was up and we’d all be the better for it.”

“Why didn’t she come to my division then?” Gene smirked. “Would have traded you a picky pain DI for a skirt to do the paperwork any day.” 

“So she joins the Women’s Division?” Sam prompted. 

“Yeah,” Carsons nodded. “Seemed to be doing well. Made friends with her roommate - that Cartwright girl you’ve got working for you - got along with the other girls. Seemed like it was all fine.” 

“And she’s right near by so you can see her all the time.” The Guv added. “Won’t look down on one of her own as much as she would have before.” 

Carsons nodded and stubbed out his smoke. “Thought it was working too. Saw her at the station most days and she always smiled and was friendly. Gave her a lift home, went out after work a couple of times. Then,” his voice cracked. “Then she comes in one day bouncing on her toes all excited. She’s gone out and got herself a boyfriend.”

“Wanted to tell you all about it,” Sam groaned sympathetically. “Cause you are her very best friend in the world. Been there mate.” 

“Who hasn’t?” The Guv commiserated. “So what happens then?” 

“Keep my trap shut about it don’t I?” Carsons said miserably. “Watch her go off and fall madly in love with Michael Shrivers. Watch them get engaged. Make sure everyone in RCS knows he’s her old man so when he gets in trouble she don’t have to come bail him out of the station.” 

“Trouble?” The Guv’s head perked up. “What kind of trouble?” 

“Had a thing for the girls. Had a thing for the booze and when he mixed the two sometimes his fists got involved. Had a dancer down at the Warren as a bit on the side. Occasionally they’d get to drinking and pretty soon he’s knocking her around the place.” 

“Sounds like the type of bloke you wouldn’t want around,” the Guv suggested. “Try telling her about it?” 

“Didn’t listen.” Carsons answered. “Told me she loved him and none of it was true. That’s when the Assad case came up. Suggested to Litton that she should go under cover. He’s got a thing for cocktail waitresses, thought he might just bump into her at one of Assad’s clubs since the Warren’s gone.” 

“Let her see what a loser he is?” Sam shrugged. “Meanwhile she’s on a good case, mend her broken heart with a promotion and a bona fide hero to boot.” 

“Sounds pathetic,” Carsons nodded. “I know that now.” 

“I’d have tried it,” Sam remarked dryly. 

“I wouldn’t have,” the Guv retorted and when the other two stared at him he shrugged. “Old fashioned that way. I’d have just gone and beat up the fiancee and thrown him in the canal. Save some time.” 

“I give you Gene Hunt, last of the great romantics,” Sam muttered and Carsons smiled. 

“Move on to the case.” The Guv said and glared at Sam. “What happened there?” 

“Nothing,” Carsons sighed. “Told you the truth on that. We had nothing.Then a month ago Myra calls and tells me she needs off the case. Said Shrivers got her pregnant. I tell her I’ll be round the next day to see her about it - was going to talk to Litton after he’d had a few, makes him more likely to say yes to it - who do I see when we get down to Jimmy Sutton’s place?” 

“Michael Shrivers?” The Guv suggested. “Large as life and twice as ugly.” 

Carsons’ shoulders slumped. “So, I decide to keep her on the case. Hope she realizes before it’s over that he’s no good. That she can leave him. Didn’t happen though. She called me Friday night from London and told me she had what we needed for our case. Told me to meet her on the roof Sunday night.” 

“So you did,” Sam prompted. 

“3:30. She was excited. Told me she had all the evidence we needed and wanted to know when we could pull her out. Said Michael was getting anxious for her to quit work. Stay home.” 

“You tried to talk her out of it,” Sam looked at him in astonishment. “You had to give it once last try to talk her out of it. That’s what happened?” 

“Got angry. I was yelling at her. Telling her what a low life piece of scum he was. How he cheated on her all the time. Told her he didn’t deserve her. Leave him and come stay with me. Didn’t mind about the baby. We’d work something out. Told her I loved her. Poured my heart out, I did.” 

“But she was married to Shrivers already.” The Guv finished. 

“I don’t know what happened then,” Carsons said dully. “I’m shaking her, trying to make her see sense, pleading with her and she says it. Just out and says it. Tells me she’s married that piece of filth and she doesn’t love me. Never has. Thinks of me like a brother. I just snapped. Next thing I know she’s on the pavement and I just ran. Forgot about her purse, forgot about everything. Found a phone box and called it into the station and then I just ran. Went home and had a few drinks, came in here the next day and tried to act like nothing happened.” 

“Right,” the Guv said sympathetically. “We’ve got it all on tape. I’ll have one of the DC’s type it up for you to sign. Make some calls and arrange for you a special cell in the gaol. Can’t have you in with everyone else, not safe.” 

“You got a lawyer Carsons?” Sam asked. 

“Know one that will handle it,” the Guv broke in. 

“Not the one you used a few months back is it?” Sam asked. 

“You know better?” 

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “I might. You want me to see if I can get him for you Carsons?” 

“Will I need him? Figured I’d just sign the confession and we’d be done. Not like we need a trial when I’m saying I’m guilty as sin.” 

“You’ll need him for sentencing son,” Guv answered. “Need him to make sure the judge knows what you did wasn’t premeditated.” 

“Right,” Carsons agreed. “Sounds fine then. Whatever the force thinks is best.”

“Right,” Sam agreed as he took his elbow firmly and helped him from the chair. “I’ll be down as soon as I know something.” 

“Who were you thinking Tyler?” The Guv called out. 

“Bloke by the name of Ted Baxter. Good sort.” 

“Baxter?” Carsons asked suddenly. “Any relation to the lesbian down in forensics?” 

“Her husband,” Sam answered. “Too bad you’re not making us take you to trial. Those two are a treat to watch in a courtroom. Once watched her call him an idiot from the stand in front of an entire courtroom. Took all any of us could do not to laugh ourselves sick.” 

He could see the Guv staring at him skeptically. For all the Guv knew, for all Cynthia knew, Sam had only met her Monday morning. He hoped he wouldn’t have to explain the slip later. 

“One last thing Carsons,” the Guv asked. 

“What’s that?” 

“How’s Rajeem Assad play into all of this?” 

“He doesn’t,” Carsons answered. “He was just the case we were investigating. Never even met him personally.” 

“He helped you cover it up though right?” Sam asked as things suddenly became clear. “You got him involved afterwards?” 

“No,” Carsons answered. “Like I said, never met him.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“Guv!” Phyllis came racing toward them as Sam escorted Carsons down the hall. “Guv!” 

“What Phyllis?” 

“Annie’s on the radio. Said they’ve got something from Assad’s office. Wants to talk to you.” 

The Guv reached out and took the radio. Sam stopped and looked at Carsons for a moment. He was a murderer but this had still been his case and Sam felt obliged somehow to let him know how it turned out. 

“Alpha One, Alpha One,” Annie crackled over the radio. 

“This is Alpha One,” the Guv answered. “Copy.” 

“Alpha One we’ve found a shipping invoice on Myra Tiggs desk. 3000 kg of road paving bricks. Being delivered this afternoon at the docks.” 

“Did you say this afternoon Eight Seven Zero?” The Guv looked at Sam and Carsons with a smile. 

“Yes, Alpha One. Four this afternoon. Dock 14C. Repeat Dock 14C. What would you like us to do Alpha One?” 

“Eight Seven Zero you are to go to the docks. Find the port official and tell him I’ll want to speak with him. DI Tyler and I will meet you there.” 

“Roger Alpha One,” Annie answered and the radio went dead. 

“Road paving bricks?” Carsons asked. “Why do you care about road tar bricks? He’s been shipping those for months.” 

“Months?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah,” Carsons shrugged. “That’s one of the things Assad deals in. Road tar. Brings in two, three big crates of it every month.” 

“You ever check it?” The Guv asked. “Make sure it’s tar?” 

“Course, before we ever sent Myra in. Seized the containers, opened them, nothing but bricks and bricks of road tar.” 

“Did you actually break one of the bricks open?” Sam asked. “Check the inside?” 

“Why would we?” 

“Heroin,” Sam sighed and then saw the look of noncomprehension on Carsons face. “Black tar heroin. That’s how he’s smuggling it in.” 

“Phyllis,” the Guv announced as he handed her back the radio. “Get a plod to take Carsons down and lock him in a cell by himself.” 

“Guv?” Phyllis looked at him. 

“Murder of Myra Tiggs,” Sam said as he walked Carsons toward Phyllis’s desk. 

“Right,” she nodded as two plods came forward to take Carsons away. “Cell Four. It’s empty and I’ll keep it that way.” 

“Thank you,” Sam tried to smile encouragingly at Carsons. He didn’t know why he did it. The man had thrown a pregnant woman from a roof in a fit of passion. Didn’t change that he felt some empathy for the man. What copper hadn’t been dumped for being a copper and not a, well a stock broker in Carsons case but in his it had been a surgeon? The only person he’d ever thrown off a roof though was himself. 

“Gladys!” The Guv yelled as he tossed Sam his coat. “Are we standing around all day or are we going to go nail the bastard?” 

“Nailing the bastard,” Sam agreed as he followed the Guv out to the Cortina. “Definitely nailing the bastard.” 

Sam clung to the oh shit handle as the Guv raced along the streets of Manchester and toward the docks. “Can you believe it?” He snarled. “Litton had him months ago and he just didn’t bother to look any further than his own prick. Missed it entirely.” 

“3000 kilos Guv,” Sam looked at the other man. “How long are we thinking? 20 years?” 

“Nah,” the Guv shook his head and then jerked them on two wheels around a sharp right turn. “Local magistrate’s a hard arse on the drugs. We get the old shipping statements, prove he’s been doing it for a while, he’ll send Assad up for life. Never see him in my city again.” 

“Good,” Sam smiled as they pulled into the dockyard and slammed to a stop in front of the office. 

“Cartwright!” The Guv yelled. 

“Yes Guv?” She stepped from the office with a portly, balding man in a suit. 

“DCI Hunt?” The man wheezed. “I’m Charles Turner, Customs Supervisor.” 

“Hello Mr. Turner,” The Guv shook his hand. “Got something we need to bring to your attention.” 

“The charming DC Cartwright has already explained it all over tea.” Turner answered. “Sent your two other detectives along with four customs agents down to wait for the Saffiyeh.” 

“The Saffiyeh?” Sam asked. 

“The ship from Istanbul bringing Mr. Assad’s containers,” Turner clarified. 

“Guv,” Sam said suddenly. “We don’t have a warrant. We need to call in for one. We can’t open the crates without it.” 

“Shit,” the Guv snapped. He wheeled around and looked at Annie. “Cartwright, you get your fanny back to the station and get me a warrant.” 

“Excuse me?’ Turner coughed delicately. “Can I make a suggestion?” 

“Not now Mr. Turner,” the Guv waved. “We’ll handle this. Don’t worry. No consequences for you on the whole affair.”

“DCI Hunt,” Turner coughed again. “Really I think you might want to listen to my suggestion.” 

“Fine,” the Guv rolled his eyes and looked at the Custom’s Supervisor. “What is your suggestion?” 

“Your men can’t open those crates DCI Hunt,” Turner began.

“Yes I know that thank you.” The Guv retorted as Sam looked between the two. 

“You can though!” Sam snapped his fingers and pointed at Turner. “You can open any crate that comes into port for inspection! Seize it for further investigation to guarentee it’s not contraband.” 

“Yes,” Mr. Turner smiled. “And if I suspect that a cargo is being used to ship narcotics,” he shrugged. 

“You’re allowed to notify the police for further investigation.” Sam grinned. “So as long as it’s one of your men who open the crates,” he looked over at Gene. 

“We don’t need a warrant.” The Guv answered. “Good thinking Mr. Turner. Very good thinking.” 

“I just need someone to tell me that the crates contain drugs,” Turner smiled and then looked up at Annie flirtatiously. “A little birdie to sing in my ear.” 

Sam smiled at Annie then as she wrapped her arms around Mr. Turner’s neck and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Those road tar bricks are full of heroin.” 

“You’re sure?” He asked her and Sam could see her smile. 

“Mmmhmmm,” Annie giggled. “Cross my heart.” She did just that then and Sam could see Turner swallow audibly as he followed the path of her finger. 

“Right then,” Turner nodded. “Since DC Cartwright seems like such a brilliant officer I think it’s in my best interest to follow her suggestion and inspect the crates. If you would follow me we’ll go to dock 14C. The Saffiyeh should be docking in about 20 minutes.” 

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing as Mr. Turner offered Annie his arm and turned to escort her toward the docks. He looked over at the Guv and could see his face contorted and red as well. 

“The uses for a DC with tits,” the Guv snickered. “They are endless.” 

“Sometimes,” Sam fought back a spasm of laughter. “It just needs a woman’s touch.” 

The Guv lit a cigarette then and smirked. Annie turned to look over her shoulder at the men and glared. Sam simply winked in response and next to him the Guv slung an arm over his shoulder and began to mimic kissing Sam mincingly on the cheek. Annie turned her head around quickly and Sam could see her shoulders shaking as she tried not to laugh.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

“Cartwright,” The Guv announced grandly. “It’s time that I showed how proud of you I am. You did a good job today! You are a brilliant bird.” 

“Thank you Guv,” she blushed and scooted slightly closer to Sam. 

“Because I’m so proud of you - you Cartwright are allowed to buy me a round. Make it a double because you’re such a good lass.” 

“Course Guv,” she smiled. “I’ll get this round. Same again for everyone?” 

“Water,” Sam answered. “I’m fine with water.” 

“Shut up Gladys,” the Guv announced. “Make Tyler’s a triple. And bring him two.” The Guv reached into his pocket and then pressed a coin into Annie’s hand. “I’ll pay for his. That way he can’t refuse.” 

“How do you figure?” Sam asked and swayed slightly as he turned to look at the Guv. 

“Because I am your Guv,” he announced and thumped his fist on the table. “And tonight you, picky pain Tyler, Sammy-boy, Gladys, Dorothy, what was I saying?” 

“That I was drinking scotch and not water,” Sam prompted. 

“You are getting rat arsed tonight Tyler. You did a good job today and you deserve to cut loose a bit. So by order of me, DCI Gene Hunt, your Guv, you my little deputy dawg are hereby ordered to get so drunk you don’t remember who you went home with in the morning. So take along one of those tape recorders because I want all the details about Cartwright naked.” 

“Right Guv,” Sam smiled as Annie returned with their drinks and handed him a large tumbler of scotch and an even larger one of water. With as drunk as Gene currently was he’d be able to water down his drink enough to stay sober and still keep the other man happy. 

“What’s she doing here?” He heard Ray slur and turned to look at where the other man was pointing. Cynthia Baxter was standing somewhat nervously in the doorway of the Railway Arms. 

The Guv shifted beside him. “I invited her Raymondo. Expected her here an hour ago.” Turning his attention he called out. “What took you so long Cindyloo?” 

“I wanted to finish what I was working on Guv. Took a little time.” 

“Chris,” the Guv shifted closer to Sam and reached for another chair, placing it between himself and Skelton. “Get Cindyloo a drink. What are you having?” 

“Scotch,” she smiled. “No ice, no,” 

“No ice no water,” Sam answered. 

“Yeah,” she smiled. “How did you know?” 

“I’m a good detective,” he giggled then and wondered if he was drunker than he’d first thought. Probably. He turned to talk to Annie. Wasn’t sure why, their conversations were generally pointless. Making dates that neither of them would ever push to keep. Light flirting, little bit of banter. Nothing real, nothing substantial. Empty promises. Every so often she’d push for him to actually take her on a date, not just suggest it, and he would come up with some excuse about not wanting to ruin her reputation on the force. She was a new detective, he’d promoted her, they didn’t want anyone to get the idea that it was anything but professional. 

He didn’t know why he did it but he did. He emptied his scotch in one gulp and didn’t notice that Chris had returned with another round for everyone, placing his silently next to his elbow. 

Gene did the same thing as well, flirted with random women, made sure he ogled the occasional girl on the street, told an off color joke, looked at the porn mags. Pretended to, Sam thought. He’d never once actually seen Gene looking at one, they just lay about at the station for everyone to see. 

Both of them tried to keep up the appearances of a lie. He finished his next scotch and tried to pay attention to what Annie was saying. If they didn’t keep up the lie, if Sam didn’t occasionally date (no one could blame him when they didn’t work out, not with someone as strange as Sam), if the Guv wasn’t a man’s man, others would begin to talk. They were detectives and eventually they would detect that perhaps the Guv and his little deputy dawg were always together. Attached at the hip as Annie had once said. Would begin to wonder why they were always together, not just at work but everywhere. People could accept that the Guv and his DI were best friends, they were good partners and there was nothing at all wrong with two men being the best of friends. If there wasn’t the occasional woman though, Sam shook his head. If there were no women then people would start to wonder if friends were all they were and that was something that the Guv couldn’t allow. Talk he was screwing a plonk? Sure. Talk he was screwing Sam? Career ender. 

“Tyler why are you so sour faced?” The Guv asked. “Cartwright flash your tits let’s see if Sammy here can’t brighten up a little.” 

“Tits are not the answer to everything Guv,” Sam rolled his eyes. “No offense Annie. I was just,” he turned to look and stopped. The Guv had an arm slung over Cynthia’s chair and he felt his hackles rise. She was turned slightly so she could face the Guv and he was sure that in that tight space their knees were touching. He liked Cynthia Baxter, would like, had liked, he was never sure of the tense of things but he was not going to be happy about her flirting with Gene. That was something that would need to be dealt with. Gene needed to have a beard. Sam understood that. He just didn’t have to like it.

“Just thinking about the Assad case,” he mumbled. 

“Don’t be!” The Guv announced. “Another drink for Tyler. Raymondo it’s your round.” 

“Actually,” Cynthia broke in. “I think it’s mine. Same again for everyone? Triple for Tyler to catch him up with the rest of you?” 

Triple for Tyler indeed he thought peevishly and glared at the Guv. “So what’s with the forensics bird coming to the pub Guv?” Ray asked quietly once she was at the bar. “Not usual for you to invite the science geeks.” 

“She deserves it,” the Guv said judiciously. “That fingerprint of hers is what broke the Tiggs case. We’d have got him eventually but that thumb print was what sealed the deal.” 

“Don’t let him lie,” Sam broke in and tried to push his personal feelings about Cynthia and the Guv out of his mind. “We’d have never even suspected him without that print. We expected Carsons finger prints at the scene. Never would have thought to question it.” 

“Can’t believe it was a copper that killed her,” Chris hiccuped. “Doesn’t seem right.” 

“Unrequited love,” Sam shrugged. “Makes a man do funny things.” 

“Besides,” Sam saw the Guv look over his shoulder at Cynthia who was still getting acquainted with Nelson as he poured the drinks. “Doesn’t hurt to be nice to forensics. She’s handling the Assad case personally and she’s made it a top priority. Not going to work on anything else until we’re through. Baxter is good and she works quick. Oswald told me on the sly that Scotland Yard’s already been vying to have her transferred there. Be a shame to lose her when we’ve finally got someone in forensics on our side. So you all be nice and treat her like part of the team.” 

“Yes Guv,” Ray agreed. 

“Wilco Guv,” Chris slurred. “She going to fetch the tea like Annie does? Know where to find the hidden Garibaldis?” 

“You want Garibaldis DC Skelton I recommend Oswald’s desk. Has packs in there. Likes to munch on them between autopsies.” Cynthia announced as she came back.

“Oswald’s got a stash of Garibaldis?” The Guv asked as he took his drink. 

“Well we don’t get quick pops to the canteen all the time like you do. Garibaldis are in Oswald’s desk. I keep the cheese doodles underneath a packet of papers I was supposed to send upstairs a week after I got hired and still haven’t filled out. Chocolate is in the back of the specimen fridge. Oh and the pink wafers are in the chemical closet.” 

“You’ve got pink wafers in the chemical closet?” Sam asked scandalized. 

“They’re wrapped. We don’t keep the open container in there.” She retorted defensively. 

“How many containers?” The Guv slurred. 

“We buy them by the dozen. Don’t want to take a chance of running short if we’ve got a long night do we?” 

“A dozen packs of pink wafers?” The Guv repeated. “In your chemical closet?” 

“2 dozen just behind the fingerprint powder,” she nodded. 

“Baxter,” the Guv looked at the forensics investigator appraisingly. “I must say you have just given me one hell of a stiffy.” 

“Good because with the news I have for you Guv you’re going to love me so much it’ll make every girl in Manchester’s heart break.” 

“What’s that then Baxter? You’re having my love child aren’t you? My looks your brains he’ll be bleeding Prime Minister before his old man ever retires off the force. Live my retirement in luxury.” 

Cynthia took a sip of her scotch while the others stared at her. “ Sorry, no. Did I forget to mention? I finished testing the first batch of the bricks you took from Assad. They’re Afghani heroin in a millimeter thick shell of standard grade road tar. I estimate from the 3000 kilos you took, disregarding the dummy bricks on the perimeter that were actually solid road tar, you stopped a 2700 kilo stash of heroin from entering Manchester. According to Oswald, who’s more in the know than I, that DCI Gene Hunt gives you the biggest single narcotics bust in Manchester history. I’ll have a definitive answer tomorrow afternoon.” 

Sam looked around the table at the open mouthed shock the others had fallen into. “Baxter,” the Guv sounded strangled for a moment. “This is the first time I have ever said this to anyone and I can’t think of anyone better to say it to.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Dr. Baxter, I’d like to buy you a drink.” The Guv said and Sam felt his own jaw drop along with the others. 

“Careful,” Chris mumbled drunkenly. “The Boss had a thing for her first. Besides you said we can’t scare her away. She’ll think we’re all, what are we all Ray? You called the Boss one earlier. Right kinky perverts.” 

Sam reached for his glass and swallowed quickly to hide his grimace as it turned into a smile. He’d never seen anyone shoot scotch through their nose before. Nice to have someone else around to keep the Guv amused at the pub. Might even persuade him to give forensics more of a chance. Learn from her. Sam pushed his glass of scotch away and sipped the water. Maybe he was just a bit pissed.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Gene surveyed his team happily as he sipped another scotch. Cartwright and Cindyloo were currently handing Skelton and Ray their arses in darts, Phyllis had left an hour earlier, and Sam was sitting beside him pretending to watch the game as well but really just staying pressed close to Gene while no one was watching. 

“Guv,” Sam mumbled and pushed himself slightly closer to Gene. His DI reeked like a distillery from the triples he’d been drinking like singles and with the way he was pressing close Gene realized that Tyler was very, very drunk. 

“Hmm?” Gene murmured as Skelton completely missed the board with his throw. 

“Gene,” the words were slurred. 

“Yes?”

Sam pressed his lips almost against Gene’s ear. “I want you to take me home and fuck me into the mattress. Right now.” 

“Really?” Gene raised an eyebrow and surveyed the rest of his team. The girls were winning by a solid margin and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Perhaps it would be best if they left on a high note. 

“I’m really horny,” Sam persisted in a whisper. “Please, please take me home and fuck me till I can’t see straight.” 

“Right,” Gene nodded. He’d known from the beginning that Sam was not a heavy drinker. Later he’d found that it was because alcohol made Sam horny and the more he drank the hornier he got. Apparently in Hyde that had been considered a bad thing. Gene smiled. Luckily for him they were not in Hyde and Gene was much more tolerant about letting his DI drunk fuck the boss. “Act drunk,” he whispered. 

“Not acting,” Sam giggled as Gene stood and reached out to wrap an arm around his waist. Sam lolled his head slightly so that it rested in the hollow of Gene’s throat.

“Taking Tyler home,” Gene announced abruptly. “Ray, Chris make sure the birds get home safe and sound.” 

“Yes Guv,” the two men nodded. 

“Night Guv,” Cartwright followed. When he looked over Baxter simply gave him and Sam a look before smiling and raising a brow. Gene stared as she quietly reached over to take the darts from Chris and began her throws. Baxter knew exactly where Sam was going, Gene thought. She seemed like the sort to keep her mouth shut so he thought for tonight he might let it pass. If need be he could send Sam down tomorrow to smooth things out with her. 

He pushed Sam through the door of the pub and out to where the Cortina was parked on the street. “How drunk are you really luv?” He muttered to Sam’s upturned face as he half walked, half dragged Sam to the passenger side. 

“Really drunk,” Sam answered. “Very, very drunk.” 

“All of that then?” Gene countered. 

“Mmm,” Sam agreed as he slumped into the seat and began to slowly squirm. 

Gene shook his head and walked around to his side of the car trying to block out the soft moans coming from the passenger seat. Slumping into his seat he looked over at a blissfully wiggling Sam. “Don’t you dare go getting off on my interior Sammy.” 

The other man just opened his eyes and grinned wickedly. “Give me something else to get off on then,” he smirked.

Five minutes later found them parked in front of Gene’s (well now Gene and Sam’s he amended to himself) house. 30 seconds after they’d turned the corner from the Railway Arms Sam had been across the seat sucking on Gene’s neck and rubbing his hand against Gene’s cock. Gene had slammed the car to a halt in front of the door and was trying desperately to find his voice so he could explain to Sam all the reasons they should not be making out in the Cortina in front of his house for God and all the neighbors to see. All he could manage was a groan. 

“In,” he grunted. “Now.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed breathlessly. “Me in you right now.” With that he began tugging at Gene’s zip urgently. 

“No,” Gene tossed his head as his hips thrust up so his cock was in Sam’s hand. “Get in the house. Not shagging in the Cortina so my neighbors can see my pasty arse through their front windows.” 

“Point taken,” Sam slurred. “More room inside.” With that Sam pulled back away from him and Gene tried not to groan at the loss. He climbed hurriedly from the car and reached for Sam who was still swaying dangerously against the bonnet. Dragging his giggling, drunk partner up the front stairs Gene pushed open the door and swung Sam inside. Kicking it closed he felt Sam pulling at the lapels of his coat, dragging him further into the room. He felt his legs press up against something and he landed on the sofa with a plop, his thankfully skinny DI landing on top of him. 

Gene leaned up and planted his mouth onto Sam’s, shoving his tongue inside Sam’s mouth and inhaling the scent of whiskey. He reached down and grabbed Sam on the arse, pressing him down tighter. A sharp shift and they were tumbling off the sofa and onto the floor, Gene pinning a squirming Sam down beneath him. 

“No fair,” Sam slurred.

“No fair?” Gene leaned down to kiss him again. 

“Did a good job today,” Sam pouted. “I deserve a reward.” 

“What do you call this then?” Gene nipped along Sam’s collarbone and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m getting ready to shag you into the carpet. What’s that? Punishment?” 

“Want to shag you,” Sam announced as he tried to focus on undoing Gene’s shirt buttons. His eyes were crossing with the effort and the tip of his tongue poking out the right side of his mouth. “Right here on the floor.” 

“You want to shag the Gene Genie?” He laughed then. “Wasn’t what you were saying earlier.” 

“Is not?” Sam slurred. 

“Nope, earlier it was take me home and fuck me through the mattress Gene.” 

“Changed my mind,” Sam announced as he pushed Gene off of him and began to jerk more insistently at his clothes. “My perogative. Take your clothes off. They keep moving.” 

“You going to be able to stay conscious for this?” Gene asked speculatively as he watched Sam swaying on his knees, trying to pull free of his own shirt and trousers but missing the buttons on both by a mile. Sam made an unsuccessful grab for him and ended up face first on the carpet, thrusting his hips against it. 

“Not down there Sammy,” Gene rolled his eyes. “Try again.” 

“Ungh,” Sam replied as Gene shook his head and began to undo Sam’s trousers, working them down slowly and letting his fingers roam across the delicate skin. Reaching over for his coat he dug into the inside pocket. Lube was not in the pocket, Gene scowled. He always kept a small bottle there because Sam was a kinky bastard who liked it wherever he could get it. Where had he put the damn lube? 

Accepting that the lube was gone, Gene leaned down to run his tongue along Sam’s spine and was just about to tell Sam not to fall asleep because he would be right back when something under the sofa caught his eye. Right, lube found. Never mind the interruption. Back to the regularly scheduled program of shagging Sammy. 

Gene reached for the bottle under the sofa and then he heard it. No, that wasn’t it. It was just a deep breathe he told himself and leaned in to nuzzle Sam’s neck. A deep breathe against the carpet but when he kissed Sam behind the ear his lover didn’t pant, he squirmed slightly, smiled and repeated what he’d done just a second before. He snored. Passed out drunk and dead to the damn world. 

“Should have stayed at the pub,” Gene grumbled as he redid his own trousers and adjusted himself before leaning down to cradle Sam’s naked, snoring, carcass in his arms and carrying him to bed. Sam was so fast asleep he didn’t even flinch when Gene dropped him roughly onto the bed. 

“From now on your drinking water Mister,” Gene huffed as he stormed into the bathroom to deal with pressing matters that Sam had neglected to handle before his little nap.


	19. Chapter  Nineteen

Sam straightened his shirt cuffs and adjusted his tie angrily. The bitch, he thought to himself. The absolute nerve of her. He’d stormed through the hallways of the Manchester Police Department and tried to ignore the clenching in his gut. The urge to slam his hand into the wall. The absolute nerve of that utter bitch, he thought again. 

The middle of an undercover operation and she decides to move out. Doesn’t tell him. No she waits until it’s his turn to cover the night surveillance, packs up half of his flat, leaves a note and is gone. No talking, no fighting, no ultimatums, just gone. Not even the courtesy of telling him why. What he had done that was so horrible to deserve this from her? Again. For the third time in six months. 

To make matters worse each time he had to work with her and keep things professional. He’d chosen to mingle work and his personal life, against everyone’s advice, and when she did this he always had to pay for it. She was still his DI after all and that meant they were going to be working together for a long time and he couldn’t allow his personal problems to affect that. That damn bitch, he swore silently again. 

“DCI Tyler!” DC Collins said in surprise as he skirted around her desk on his way to his office. “I thought you were off today. Is there a problem Sir?” 

“No,” Sam answered. “Just needed to do some paperwork. No rest for the wicked as they say.” 

“Of course Sir.” She agreed as he stormed away from her desk. “Anything you say Sir.” 

“Sam,” he watched Maya swallow. “We didn’t expect you here today.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t DI Roy,” he stressed her title slightly. “I need to get some work done on the Assad case. I want to check on our surveillance recordings from yesterday.” 

“I’ll have DI Stuart send up the briefings on everything they’ve finished.” She answered. 

“No,” Sam replied coldly. “I don’t want DI Stuart’s briefs. I end up smelling like a brewery just reading them. I want the recordings themselves. The uncut ones. And I want the notes from the surveillance teams to compare it with. I’m meeting our undercover later and I want to be fully briefed before hand.” 

“Sam,” Maya sighed then exasperated. 

“DI Roy?” 

“Are you just going to act like this or are we going to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?” Sam hissed back. “The fact that apparently someone burgled my flat last night while I was at work, took my girlfriend and left me nothing but a note that read ‘Dear Sam, you don’t love me anymore’? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Sam,” she repeated and he knew she was giving him the puppy dog look. 

“DI Roy I asked you to get those surveillance tapes. 

He didn’t know why he did what he did then. He was angry at Maya, that much was obvious, but he’d never retaliated back before. Had never tried to get revenge out of spite while they were fighting. He didn’t know why he did it but he couldn’t deny how it made him feel, like for once, just once he was the desirable one in the relationship.   
“Chelsea,” he came up behind her in the library and kept his voice low. 

“Hello Sam,” she smiled at him as she turned from the shelf of books she’d been browsing. “How’s your research going?” 

That was their cover. Sam was a postdoctoral researcher that had a flat in her building. He’d thought it would never work but he’d been wrong and she was right. No one noticed the researchers at a University. They really were background. No one once had ever questioned him about it. 

“Good,” Sam smiled then. “Was just taking a little break. Wondered if you wanted a cup of coffee? My treat.” 

“Great,” she smiled warmly then. “Just let me check out the books I have and we can go.” 

“The Calculus of Consent, A Primer on Game Theory, and 1984?” Sam raised a brow. “Pleasure reading?” 

“Research for my next job.” She answered. 

“You’ve already found another job?” Sam asked. 

“Tentatively. It’s the same job as before and they’ve agreed to hold a position for me. I still might look a little more. Weigh my options.” 

“You shouldn’t go Chelsea,” he argued softly. 

“I’d be stupid to stay,” she retorted as she checked her books out and shoved them into a bag. 

“Let’s skip coffee,” Sam said and tried to make it sound sudden. “Call Assad and tell him you’re slammed with homework. Won’t get out of the library till late. Study group, whatever it is college girls do.” 

“And?” 

“Let me take you out to dinner. Little place I know across town. Assad would never set foot in there. Best Mexican food you’ve ever tasted.” 

“Dinner?” She asked. “Is this standard procedure with an undercover?” 

“It can be,” Sam lied. “If the situation calls for it.” 

“Sure,” she nodded and reached for her mobile. One quick call later and she was smiling at him. “This better be really great Mexican food,” she said sternly. “I’ve got homework I should be doing.” 

“You’re doing the homework?” Sam asked. “Really?” 

“It’s look pretty suspicious if I wasn’t doing the homework and taking the tests wouldn’t it?” She retorted. 

“Good point,” Sam nodded. “What’s the homework?” 

“Report on Crime and Punishment for the literature class you so thoughtfully signed me up for. I still haven’t read it.” 

“You didn’t like the literature class I chose? Thought it sounded interesting,” Sam mused. “I’d have taken it.” 

“I can tell,” she agreed. “It also happened to be the only one I couldn’t manage to transfer out of. French, art appreciation, medieval history, I managed to get out of. World literature? I’m slogging through it.” 

“So what are you taking?” 

“Real analysis, computer graphics imaging, combinitorics.” She answered. “You know interesting stuff?” 

Sam shook his head confused. He had no idea what any of those entailed. For a moment he almost backed out of what he had planned. She was too smart to fall for this.   
“I’ve got the movie at home, of Crime and Punishment I mean.” Sam announced. “The BBC version they did a while back. I have a copy of it. How about we skip the Mexican, grab a pizza and you can just see the movie version instead of read it?” 

“That’s cheating Sam Tyler!” She smiled. 

“Maybe,” Sam shrugged. “Does it really hurt though?” 

He smiled then as he followed her to his Jeep. He should feel guilty he thought. A better man would feel guilty. Sam Tyler when he wasn’t hurt and angry would feel guilty. That didn’t matter now, Sam was hurt and angry and he knew Maya was in charge of the audio surveillance tonight and he’d made sure to keep the tiny transmitter in his pocket turned on. 

Nothing had happened really, Sam thought defensively to himself. Pizza, wine, a little groping, some snogging, a little more groping in which clothing was starting to get loosened and rearranged. Not really on the up and up but nothing that couldn’t be forgotten about awkwardly later. Then he’d tried for just a bit more and the transmitter had fallen out of his trouser pocket, she could tell in an instant it was still on. 

“Mistake,” he’d lied then and nuzzled at her neck before turning it off . “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure whoever’s on surveillance was discreet enough to turn the damn thing off once they realized.” 

“Is it DI Roy on surveillance then?” She’d said warily then. “Since she’s obviously not here I assume she’s working.” 

“Maya moved out,” he said evasively. 

“But she is on surveillance tonight isn’t she Sam?” Chelsea had been up then and readjusting her clothes. He hadn’t dared face her just then. “Right,” she’d answered as she picked up her bag. “Best if I leave then.” 

He’d followed her to within a block of Assad’s in his Jeep, apologizing the whole way for being an arse if she’d just get in the car and let him drive her. She’d walked though and once she reached the corner he stopped and slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He’d tried not to feel too much self loathing when he let Maya move back in a week later. 

“Tyler,” the voice taunted him awake. “I’m back.” 

Sam sat bolt upright and turned to stare at Gene. The other man was still sleeping. He couldn’t hear the voice. 

“I promised I’d come back,” Assad chuckled. “Thought I’d tell you some more about Chelsea Wainright. Then Sam I have a secret to tell you. A big secret. A secret you’ll find very interesting I think.” 

“What do you know you bastard?” Sam growled as he followed the voice into the kitchen where it was coming from the radio. 

“Oh Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea.” Assad chanted. “Bet you wonder how she died don’t you? Wonder how much she suffered? If she told us everything? You’d have been so proud of her Sammy boy. I don’t know what you had on her but it must have been something. Never would tell us who she worked for. Wouldn’t give us the name of her DCI. You see she knew.” 

“Knew what?” Sam asked. “What did she know?” 

“Knew who our mole inside your team was. Too smart for her own good, Chelsea. Had suspected for a while apparently. Seen too many details that the rest of CID was missing. Things that weren’t making it to their DCI. Being filtered along the way. You know she tried to stop them all on her own? Didn’t want poor DCI Tyler to find out he’d let someone so rotten in so close. Apparently it turned into quite a tiff. Wasn’t smart of her though. Turns out you and she weren’t as close as she’d thought. You didn’t trust her nearly enough. Doubted her. Trusted my spy more.” 

“I trusted Chelsea,” Sam said defiantly. “I trusted her enough to send her undercover. To meet with her personally instead of sending a DC. I trusted her.” 

“Did it hurt when you lost her?” Assad asked. “I just wonder that Sammy. Did you cry for her like you did when Maya Roy was kidnapped? You know I’d thought it would slow you down some Sammy. Losing someone on your team that way. Thought it was a warning you’d understand. I must confess,” Assad chuckled. 

“Confess what?” Sam slammed his fists. “Confess what?” 

“It wasn’t my idea to torture her. We were just going to shoot her and toss her off the building for you to find. Nothing more than that. Then she threatened my spy. Well let’s just say that wasn’t well received. I wasn’t the one who tortured her Sammy, that was a member of your own team. Someone that wanted you to suffer that. Could have ended your career,” Assad taunted. “Should have ended your career. Undercover officer lost on your case? While you had stepped out of the car to take a personal call? Should have ended you right then and there but somehow it didn’t. You got lucky I guess.”

“Someone on my team tortured and killed Chelsea?” He shook the radio. “Tell me who it is. Tell me!” 

“Guess that’s why my little snake in the grass decided to help us get rid of you. Arranged for us to find you that day. Messy business, not nearly to plan I have to tell you. My men, see my men were supposed to follow you on your way back to the station and when it was convenient pull alongside you and shoot you in your Jeep. Another victim of senseless violence in the big bad city. Retaliation for some drug dealer you’d help put away. That’s how those street dealers handle problems isn’t it? Drive up and shoot somebody in their cars? Instead you changed the plan.” 

“How? How did I change the plan?” 

‘Feisal and Mahmood, they’re good at their jobs. Wily. When you stopped the Jeep they saw a chance to get rid of you without suspicion. Stepped out and presented them with a perfect target. Hit and run. No witnesses. No one at all to see. If that fool woman wouldn’t have drove by a moment later you’d have bled to death right there on that road and no one would have been there to save you.” 

“You were behind my accident?” Sam stared at the radio. “You sent men to kill me?” 

“You know I had a plan in place once you woke up. Wanted to give it a few weeks. Your case against me fell apart while you were in a coma. That acting DCI Roy decided there wasn’t enough evidence to pursue it further. Wonder why that was?” Assad laughed. “Then you went and made it so easy for me. Stepped off a building. Saved me all sorts of time.” 

“You bastard,” Sam couldn’t control the trembling in his hands. Assad had arranged to kill him. He was behind the accident. No, Sam thought, someone on his team, someone he trusted, had arranged to kill him. They were behind the accident and according to Assad they personally tortured and killed Chelsea Wainright as well. 

“Brought you more daisies Sam,” Assad muttered then. “Shame to see nothing but my own wilting flowers every time I come. Wonder why that mother of yours doesn’t show her face? Or your Aunt Heather? Seem like nice ladies but Sam they were so ashamed when you committed suicide. So devastated. You were raised better than that weren’t you? Raised to believe that suicide was a mortal sin. No coming back from that. Did you know she had to bury you across town? Not at the cemetery your grandparents are in, no they didn’t want you. Couldn’t have you polluting their grounds. It broke her heart. Maybe she’ll forgive you one day enough to come and visit your grave. Until then here’s some more daisies. And don’t worry Sam I’ll come back and visit. Next time I’ll even bring you a present. One I know you’ll like.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

“Carsons,” Sam said as he opened the door to the other man’s cell. “You awake?” 

“Yeah,” the man answered sullenly and Sam could see him sitting in the corner at the far side of the cell. 

“I just wanted to let you know we’ve arrested Rajeem Assad on drug smuggling. Heroin. Myra’s evidence was right. We followed the clues she left like breadcrumbs right to it. He confessed within five minutes after being shown the evidence.” 

“She actually managed to get him?” Carsons asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “2700 kilos of heroin. Largest drug smuggling operation we’ve ever busted. Found files on her desk to suggest that this isn’t the first time they’ve done it.”

“Good girl,” Carsons smiled slightly. “You should go by and tell her mother. I mean I know she won’t get any recognition for it but it might help her mother to know that what she was doing had some good come out of it.” 

“Already thought about that,” Sam answered. “My Guv called Jackie Queen and gave her something of an exclusive.” He handed over the newspaper under his arm. Across the front page the headline blared ‘Police Officer Dies Hero in Drug Smuggling Case’. Underneath was Myra’s photograph from when she graduated the Women’s Academy. 

“That’s good,” Carsons nodded. “Good they realize that she was a hero. A good copper.”

“It is,” Sam agreed. “There’s just one thing Carsons.” 

“What’s that Sam?” 

“Assad’s only going to get 20 years. He reached a plea agreement last night. He’ll be sentenced to 20 years and he’ll probably only serve 15 of them.” 

“That’s a shame,” Carsons muttered. “All that work and he’s only getting 15 years.” 

“That’s the thing,” Sam grimaced. He’d thought about this ever since he’d heard Assad last night. The man would kill again. He’d kill Chelsea Wainright in exactly the same way to taunt the police. This was his chance, Sam thought, his chance to truly make things right. To make a difference. It didn’t matter if he was doing it the wrong way. Gene had done it the wrong way for years and the only one who’d ever complained was Sam. Good intentions were what mattered, Sam reminded himself, and tried to forget what road they paved. 

“What’s the thing?” 

“Drugs he’ll only get 15 years. Conspiracy to commit murder though,” Sam shrugged. “Especially a police officer.” 

Carsons nodded. “How long would he get?” 

“For a pregnant, under cover police officer who died a hero?” Sam looked at him meaningfully. “How long do you think he’ll get?” 

Carsons swallowed then. “DI Tyler I’d like to revise my confession because of errors at the time of my statement.”

“Of course, Carsons.” Sam smiled. “Thought a night in the cells might make you question your loyalty to Assad.”

Leading a handcuffed Carsons out of his cell, Sam smiled at Annie. “Annie, could you find the Guv? Mr. Carsons wants to speak with us some more about Myra Tiggs.” 

He could see Annie’s face go white as she looked at Carsons. The man who had murdered her friend. “Annie, please go get the Guv.” 

“Of course Sam,” she swallowed. 

Sam took Carsons toward the Lost and Found with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Once they were through the door Sam looked over at him. “I uncuff you will you behave?” 

“Course,” Carsons agreed. “Guess we should talk before your Guv gets here.” 

“About?” 

“How exactly Rajeem Assad was involved in Myra’s murder.” 

“Right,” Sam ran his fingertips across his face and up into his hair. He’d thought about this a lot since last night. “I think the best thing is to tell them you’re bent. You’ve already confessed so that won’t get used in your sentencing. You were bent and on Assad’s payroll. You fed back to him everything Myra was telling you, she got wise to it and he had you throw her off the building. Short, simple, believable.” 

“You think they’ll believe it?” Carsons asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam blew air into his cheeks. “Wouldn’t be too far of a stretch for half the coppers in this precinct. They won’t want to question you too hard. Just remember Assad told you to murder Myra because she knew about his drug operations. That’s the important part.” 

“Right,” Carsons agreed. “Assad’s idea entirely.” 

“Well hello Carsons,” the Guv announced as he walked into the room. “DC Cartwright tells me you want to change your statement from yesterday. Decide you’re not guilty?”

“No,” Carsons swallowed. “I’m guilty. I did it. I just didn’t tell you the truth as to why.” 

“Not unrequited love then?” The Guv asked. 

“No, that was part of it.” Carsons shrugged. 

“What’s the other part?” 

“Rajeem Assad told me to kill her.” 

“Thought you didn’t know Rajeem?” 

“I’m on the take,” Carsons mumbled. “Bent. That’s how I knew Assad. I liked Myra so I didn’t compromise her when we sent her in. Then I found out about the baby, heard she was marrying Shrivers, and I got angry and told Assad that she was an undercover officer.” 

“And what did Assad tell you?” Gene asked. 

“Told me she was a liability and that I should kill her. No one would suspect me since I was her contact at the station. Wanted rid of her.” 

“How much did he pay you?” The Guv asked. 

“Promised me the sale of two of his bricks,” Carsons swallowed again and Sam could see the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Right,” the Guv lit a smoke and handed it to Carsons. Taking another he lit it for himself. “Willing to testify to that?” 

“Yes,” Carsons said resolutely. 

“Even if it means you’re inside with Rajeem Assad?” 

“I’ve already been promised protective custody inside,” Carsons replied. 

“That’s good,” the Guv agreed. “Finish your smoke and we’ll take you back to your cell. Bring your amended confession by and you can sign it.” 

“Right,” Carsons nodded. “I’ll sign whatever you want.” 

Ten minutes later they were walking Carsons back to his cell when they passed Annie and Phyllis in the corridor. “Phyllis have Assad brought to Lost and Found. Then amend his charge sheet. Add conspiracy to commit first degree murder of a police officer.” 

“What?” Annie asked shocked. “Carsons told you Rajeem Assad took part in the murder? There’s no evidence he was at the scene.” 

“Conspiracy Annie,” Sam answered. “He didn’t have to be there he just told Carsons to kill her.” 

“With all respect Sir,” Annie argued. “That doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit with the evidence.” 

“Annie,” Sam tried to keep his patience. “The evidence hasn’t been conclusive either way.” 

“Guv?” Annie turned to him. 

“Carsons?” The Guv asked. 

“Rajeem Assad told me to kill Myra Tiggs because of what she knew.” 

“Fine, tell me how he told you,” Annie said. 

“Just like that. He said kill Myra because she was getting too close.” 

“Did you meet in person?” Annie asked. 

“Annie we don’t need you questioning our suspects,” Sam snapped. “Carsons has told us everything now please go with Phyllis and make sure that charge sheet gets amended.”

“Guv?” Annie asked. 

“Cartwright,” the Guv sighed. “What is your problem with this case? Think you’d want the man who helped kill your friend put away.” 

“I saw Sam going in to Carsons cell,” Annie said. “He was in there with him alone for five minutes. It wasn’t put on the log.” 

“Sam?” The Guv turned to him now. 

“I brought Carsons the paper.” Sam answered. “Wanted to let him know that we’d wrapped up his case. Wrapped up Myra’s case. I thought he deserved to know. Didn’t think I needed to sign the log to bring him the paper. What are you accusing me of?” 

“Nothing,” Annie said suddenly. “It’s just strange that you talked to Carsons and now he’s saying there’s a conspiracy that wasn’t there yesterday and he’s in it with a suspect you’ve been after since the moment you heard his name.” 

“Right you two,” the Guv announced. “Corridor isn’t the place for this. My office. Ten minutes.” 

“Yes Guv,” Annie nodded. 

“You can’t really believe this can you?” Sam asked indignantly. “Really? Just ask Carsons. Did I ask you to frame Rajeem Assad?” 

“No.” 

“Fine then Carsons tell me how did you talk to Assad? Telephone? Meet him in person?”

“Telephone,” Carsons answered. “I talked with him on the telephone.” 

“Good which phone did you call and where did you call him from? We need the numbers or the street addresses if it was a call box. First I want to know what number you called.”

“Um,” Carsons bit his lip. “I’d have to look at my case notes.” 

“Course,” the Guv glared. “You kept the contact number for a man you were taking backhanders from in your case notes. I’ll send someone around with your new confession to sign. Get back inside your cell.” 

“Yes Sir DCI Hunt,” Carsons nodded. 

Once he was inside the cell the Guv turned to Sam in the tiny hallway. “Tell me the truth Gladys.” 

“The truth?” Sam repeated. 

“Yes, the truth. You Detective Inspector Sammuel Tyler tell me, your superior officer DCI Gene Hunt the truth. Did you ask Carsons to lie?” 

“Guv!” Sam snapped. “How can you ask me that?” 

“Sam,” the Guv growled a warning and stepped closer. He put his hand on Sam’s cheek gently. “Please. Tell me the truth. Did you ask Carsons to lie?” 

Sam bit his lip and tried his best not to look down. “Gene,” he stared into the green eyes burning into him and didn’t flinch. “I didn’t ask DC Carsons to lie.” 

Gene sighed and took his hand away from Sam’s cheek. “Get out of my station. I don’t care where you go but get out of my station and don’t come back until you get your head on straight.” 

“Gene?” Sam felt his chest tighten. 

“You need some time off. I’m putting you on indefinite leave. Now get out of my station.” 

“I don’t understand!” Sam grabbed the collar of the Guv’s shirt. “What did I do to deserve this? I told you I didn’t ask Carsons to lie and I’m being punished for it?” 

“Get out of my station Sam,” Gene said firmly. “Take some time off and come back when you’ve learned that I am your Guv and I deserve the respect of at least hearing the truth from you because you can’t lie to save your life. Now get out before I have you physically thrown out.” 

Sam let his hands fall to his sides then and stared at the Guv. He knew. He knew what Sam had done. Gene was walking away from him now and Sam watched him go sadly. What was he supposed to do now? He pounded his head lightly against the wall behind it before pushing away from it and skulking out of the station and toward home. 

Should he go home? Sam wondered. Would Gene want him there? They’d agreed to keep work and home separate but was that still the case? Could Gene just forget that he’d sent Sam home on indefinite leave, banished him from the station? Could he? Probably not, Sam thought to himself but it wouldn’t hurt him to be waiting so that they could talk about it. Get things out in the open and try to make Gene understand that they needed Rajeem Assad charged with the murder. They needed that life sentence. If they could secure a conviction for conspiracy to commit the murder of a police officer he’d go away for life and Chelsea Wainright, Sam clenched his fists tightly in his jacket pocket. 

Chelsea Wainright would be alive and living in London with her industry job, her promotions, her stock options and her obscenely high salary that the police department couldn’t match. DCI Sam Tyler would be an annoying arse that was just like everyone else and didn’t appreciate how much work she did for him. He’d just be another jerk on the police force and she’d be alive.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

“What are you doing here?” Gene snapped as he walked in the front door to see Sam lounging on the sofa with a half drunk bottle of single malt. 

“You sent me home from work. That’s what I did. I came home. Nothing to do so I decided to have a drink.” Sam replied angrily. “What did you expect me to do? Cook you dinner and have your slippers warmed and waiting?” 

“No,” Gene answered as he jerked his coat off. “I sent you home. I assumed you’d go there.” 

“That’s what,” Sam stopped. “I see. You meant my home. Not ours. Excuse me,” he waved a hand. “I meant your’s of course. This isn’t our house it’s your’s.” 

“Don’t start this Sam,” Gene spat. “Just get out. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now.” 

“You can’t stand the sight of me?” Sam asked loudly. “You hypocrite! What have I done that’s so wrong?” 

“Me?” Gene thundered. “Me? I didn’t try to fit Rajeem Assad up for conspiracy to commit the murder of a police officer!” 

“How many have you fit up before?” Sam screamed. “How many people has the Gene Genie fitted up from the treasure trove in his filing cabinet? I fit up one suspect who deserves it and you dare preach at me about good policing?” 

“Yes I’ve fit up my fair share of bastards!” Gene pounded his fist against the television he was standing next to. “They all deserved it. Every single man I’ve sent up has been a piece of scum that got what he deserved!” 

“So does Assad! What did you think that heroin was? Something a really nice guy brought in to help out all the local junkies? Keep the prices low because he’s such a nice guy?” 

“And he’s going up for it!”

“Not for long enough!” 

“I agree but that doesn’t mean you can fit him up for murder!” 

“You’ve done it!” Sam cried angrily. 

“Not that! I’ve never done that. Do you know what will happen to him in prison with that on his sheet?” 

“He’ll be insanely popular with the other inmates! He got to do what they all fantasize about.” 

“He’ll never make it that far!” Gene pronounced. “You know it as well as I do. He’ll attempt escape somewhere between Manchester and the jail. Nice deserted side road and they’ll have to shoot him. He killed a pregnant police officer! They’ll execute him and Carsons both.” 

“Fine!” Sam snapped. “He deserves it. He’s a piece of bastard scum! I can’t believe you’re fighting me on this Gene. I expected you to be the one to try and fit him up for it. Why are you trying to protect him? He’s killed a police officer!” 

“He didn’t kill Myra Tiggs,” Gene answered. “And you couldn’t prove he killed Chelsea Wainright.” 

“I know it in my gut!” 

“You can’t go by your gut!” 

“What? Did you just tell me not to use my gut?” 

“Sam,” Gene let his voice drop back to normal level and Sam stepped back as the other man reached for him. 

“Why won’t you let me do this?” Sam screamed angrily and could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “Why won’t you let me make this right?” 

“Because you aren’t thinking right,” Gene answered as he grabbed Sam and pulled him up against his chest. “You Sam Tyler do not fit up suspects for murder. You do not use your gut to make decisions. And you’ve spent all this time telling me I shouldn’t either.” 

“I was wrong!” Sam pounded his fists against Gene’s chest. “My gut tells me we need to put him away for this!” 

“I don’t listen to your gut,” Gene countered. “I listen to mine.” 

“So listen to it!” 

“I am.” Gene pressed a kiss against Sam’s hair. “You’re not fitting Rajeem Assad up for this. As much as it pains me to say that.” 

“Why? You know it’s the right thing to do!” Sam pushed away from Gene then and stood staring at him. “You know it’s right so why are you stopping it?” 

“Why did you lie to me?” Gene countered. “I gave you the chance to tell me the truth. All you had to do was tell me that you were fitting Assad up. Just said the words. Instead you lied to me.” 

“What did you expect me to do?” Sam screamed. 

“I expected you to tell me the truth! You promised me that! I have done everything you’ve asked of me Sam and in return all I’ve ever asked is for your loyalty and the truth. And my gut tells me to follow my old granny’s advice.”

“Your old granny’s advice is relevant to this and my gut isn’t?” 

“Yes,” Gene reached out for him again. “She used to tell me that if you had to lie about what you did that meant you were doing the wrong thing. You lied to me Sam. You lied about fitting up Rajeem Assad and that tells me you don’t really believe it’s the right thing to do.” 

“It is!” Sam cried out. “It’s the right thing to do. You know it as well as I do!” 

“No,” Gene shook his head. “It’s not.” 

“Fuck you Gene,” Sam spat bitterly as he grabbed his coat from the peg near the door and stormed out. 

How dare Gene tell him what he’d done was wrong? The Gene Genie, Master of a thousand fit ups. The hypocrite. The utter nerve of the bastard. 

Sam realized then he’d left his scotch back at the house and turned to go back for it. No, he decided. He wasn’t going to go back and fight with Gene again. There was a pub on the corner and he stopped in and bought a bottle there. If Gene didn’t want him around that was fine. Sam was a grown man with a place of his own. Hadn’t gotten rid of it so that people wouldn’t talk. He was lucky that it gave him somewhere to go now that things had fallen apart. 

He opened the bottle and took a long drink. Raising a hand he wiped at the tears leaking from the corner of his eyes angrily. Damn Gene, he thought to himself. Damn him for not trusting Sam. For not understanding that this was something that had to be done. The only way for Sam to make things right. That everything he believed in was wrong when it came to this. This couldn’t be solved with evidence and procedure. Assad was too smart for that. He’d been playing a loaded deck the whole time. His own team had destroyed the evidence. It was the only way he could win against a cheat. It wasn’t cheating if his opponent was using dirty tricks, Sam rationalized and took another drink. 

Damn Gene, he thought again. Damn the man for not understanding. For not listening. For not loving him enough to understand that Sam needed to do this. He pushed open the door of his flat and slammed it behind himself and leaned against it. Taking another drink he pounded his head against the door lightly. Damn Gene, Sam thought again angrily. Damn him and all of bloody 1973.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

“Sammy,” the voice came through the television to wake him. His own flat. He wasn’t at Gene’s he was in his own shitty flat, drunk and miserable. “Sammy,” the voice insisted.   
“Came to visit you again.” 

“What are you here to torture me with now Assad?” Sam snapped at the television. He was almost starting to miss the Test Card Girl. 

“Brought you a gift Sammy. One I know you’ll like.” 

“I don’t want anything from you Assad except for you to go die.”

“I brought your mole Sammy.” Assad was gloating then. “Say hello traitor. Tell Sammy hello. Try explaining to him why you did it.” 

“Who is it?” Sam was kneeling in front of the television then with his forehead against it.

“Say hello traitorous bitch.” Assad said loudly then. “Time to come clean.” 

“Hello Sam,” his heart clenched to hear that voice. To hear her. Tears began to pour down his face. He should have expected it. He should have known. All the signs. Everything pointed to her. 

“Maya,” he whispered to the television. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me it’s a mistake. Tell me why.” 

“It’s your fault Sam,” she spat then. “My career had stalled because of you. Youngest DCI in Manchester. Do you know you’d have retired only two years before I did? Two years. I’d have never gone anywhere because no one wants to take a DI away from a good DCI. You’re supposed to follow your DCI up the ranks. Except you weren’t going up the ranks Sam. Told me that yourself. Didn’t want to be an administrator. Didn’t want to be a Superintendent. Didn’t even like being a DCI. You liked the pay, the power, being the boss. You missed being a detective though. Wanted to be out on the street. Why didn’t you stay a DI then? Let someone who actually wanted the position have it!” 

“You killed me for a promotion?” Sam whispered. “No, you killed Chelsea for a promotion. You thought they’d fire me and you could have my job. That’s why? Maya you killed someone for a job promotion.” 

“That Wainright bitch,” he heard Maya sigh irritably. “You just couldn’t keep your hands off of her could you Sam? I knew the minute I laid eyes on her in that office she was trouble. Too smart for her own good. I’d managed to keep you from finding anything useful on Assad for over a year. I was the filter on all of the reports you received about Assad. All your information went through me. Then you had to get a science geek to go undercover and get personally involved. You didn’t want reports anymore you wanted the actual evidence. Started meeting with her yourself. Getting it all first hand and she figured it out. She knew something was wrong. Snooped a bit and then she knew.” 

“She tried to warn you Sammy,” Maya snarled. “You were just too busy feeling like an arse to listen. Thinking with your cock again and regretting it.” 

“Work things out with DI Roy?” Chelsea asked him the next time he saw her after that night in his flat. 

“Uh, yeah.” Sam grimaced. “Look Chelsea we should talk about what happened. I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and I apologize. I know we can’t be friends after this but I hope we can still work together professionally. I’d really like you to stay and be part of my team.” 

“So you’re back together with DI Roy?” 

“Yeah, she moved back in on Sunday.” 

“Good. I don’t have anything extra for you this week. Sorry. He’s been out of town on business. I’m glad you and DI Roy have worked things out. You deserve each other.” 

“Thanks, you’re being a real class act about this.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment Sam,” she retorted as she turned to walk away. “The only difference between the two of you is that you’re just a prick who thinks too highly of himself. So are 90% of men worldwide. Her, well I’d tell the person I loathed most in this world not to turn their backs on her. So don’t turn your back to her Sam. You never know when she’ll slit your throat.” 

She’d walked away from him then and he hadn’t followed. Had just tugged at his hair in frustration and gone back to work. He’d watched Maya closely for a few days and then let it go. Chelsea was pissed at how he treated her, understandably, and she and Maya hated each other. She hadn’t really meant anything by it. 

“Maya please tell me you didn’t do this,” he pleaded with the television. “You killed a woman because of a promotion? Because I tried to sleep with her? Jesus Maya, you’ve got more sense than that. You killed someone for no reason. Please tell me you didn’t do this.” 

“You were right about one thing Sam,” Maya said defensively. “She was smart and when it came down to it she was tough at the end. Unbreakable. Or at least hard to break. Her body gave out long before she ever would have opened her mouth. Bitch even got a swing in on me the first time I questioned her. That was why we tied her up finally. She just wouldn’t stay still.” 

“What the hell happened to you Maya?” He asked as he fingered the rapidly darkening bruise on her cheekbone. 

“You’ll laugh if I tell you,” she said sulkily. 

“Tell me,” he’d said sternly. Then he softened. “Come on I promise I won’t laugh. What happened?” 

“Tripped getting out of the surveillance van,” she mumbled. “Cracked my head against the door.” 

“Are you ok?” Sam had been concerned. “I mean besides looking like you’ve gone a round or two with de la Hoya?” 

“Bit of a headache,” she admitted ruefully. 

“We’ve all got that,” Sam answered before leaning in to give her a kiss. 

“Are you coming home?” She asked. 

“No,” Sam answered. “Not until we know something Maya. She might have gone to ground. We might have missed something. Until I know,” he’d stopped then. “Until we know for certain I can’t leave. I was her contact within the department. If we manage to find her,” he swallowed. “When we find her they’ll need me here.” 

“Right,” Maya agreed and then sighed. “I guess I’ll see you back here tomorrow then Sam.” 

“Hopefully sooner,” he’d tried to smile. “She’s a smart girl. I just keep waiting for the phone to ring and it to be her. Her on the other end telling us she got out of there and she’s found a place to hide.” 

“Sammy,” she’d crooned then and wrapped her arms around him. “You know that’s not what’s going to happen. She’d have called in by now. We’d have heard.” 

 

“She might just be trying to be careful,” Sam insisted. 

“She’s dead Sam,” Maya answered. “It’s been almost three days. She’s gone.” 

“We don’t know that,” he’d insisted. “We haven’t,” he slammed his fist on the table. 

“Shhh,” she’d rocked him back and forth. “Just relax. Just relax sweetheart. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.” 

“Maya,” he was weeping now. “Maya I just don’t understand why.” 

“I don’t know how you kept your job Sam.” She sighed then. “It was politically brilliant of you. Demanding that she be given a funeral with full honors. Disclosing to the press that she’d been tortured and killed on your watch. You didn’t think I knew did you? Knew you were the one who’d went to the press. St. Sam the martyr. Went and apologized to the family for your mistakes in judgment. Guilt ridden for her death. Went so far as to offer your resignation to the Superintendent because of it. You just begged for that demotion. To be put out on your ear. You knew they wouldn’t do it!” She screeched the last sentence. “Knew they’d see how guilty you felt and realize it was a good learning experience for the golden boy DCI. Can’t punish you if you’re already punishing yourself.” 

“It wasn’t an act Maya,” he cried. “It wasn’t a PR move. Chelsea died on my watch. Wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for me. She would have never gone undercover without my pressing her. She’d have came out earlier if it wasn’t for me wanting all my ducks in a row. She’d have trusted me enough to tell me that you were a spy if I hadn’t,” he stopped then. “If I’d done my job she’d be alive right now Maya. How did you expect me to feel about that? Go on like I didn’t have blood on my hands? Now I know have more than even I realized. You killed her Maya! You killed her because of me.” 

“The thing is Sam I thought once we were rid of Chelsea you’d give up on Assad. You’d managed to hang onto your job and I thought you’d do the politically expedient thing and just hand Assad’s case over to someone else. You shouldn’t have investigated it anyway. Everything happened on your watch. It should have gone to another department for review and then investigation. You shouldn’t have been able to touch it.” 

“It was the murder of my own officer,” Sam answered hollowly. “You couldn’t think I’d let someone else investigate it. I put her there and it was my job to make it right. I promised them,” he sighed. “I promised her parents that I would look Assad in the eyes when we had him and find out why he’d done those things to their daughter. If he felt any remorse for it.” 

“You just wouldn’t go away Sam and you were just being you.” She snapped. “Doing your best pit bull impression. Hanging on to that case and working it. Not letting go. You just kept digging and you were getting closer and closer. If it wouldn’t have been for the Raimes case you’d have found it all a week earlier. Would have met with Drummond and he’d have told you there was a leak inside your department. Then you’d have started investigating us and I knew you’d look at me as well. Fucking you wouldn’t protect me from the Sam Tyler investigative process.” 

“So you staged your own kidnapping to give Assad’s men the chance to kill me?” Sam asked. “I loved you Maya! I thought you loved me. How could you want me dead? Helped them try to kill me? Come and sit by my bed while I was in a coma? You put me there!” 

“Ok, ok,” Assad broke in. “Enough confessions already. I’m bored. Sammy I promised you a present and here it is. DCI Maya Roy. Fucking traitor.” 

Sam heard Maya gasp then. “What are you doing?” 

“Maya?” He slammed his hand against the television’s side. “Maya!” 

“You really think I’d keep a traitor in my camp DCI Roy? You turned on your own team. Your lover. The man who shared your bed and was supposed to live inside your heart. You betrayed him to me for what? A little bit of extra cash? Revenge? What would you give me up for?” 

“I’ve never betrayed you!” Maya pleaded. 

“No,” Assad chuckled. “And now you never will.” 

Sam bit his lip to keep from crying out as he heard the gun fire. He pounded his head against the screen forcefully and felt tears dripping down his face as he fought down long, racking sobs. 

“I promised you a gift Sammy,” Assad said then quietly. “Thought this might be better than daisies. You were a good adversary Sam. So was your father. Shame that both of you were brought down by women. Seems to be a bad family trait. If you were still alive I’d tell you to work on that. As it is,” he heard Assad laugh. “Better luck next lifetime Sam. Hopefully we can meet under better circumstances. You weren’t bad for a copper.” 

He curled up in front of the television sobbing then. He’d lost everything for this job. His old friends, his old life, members of his old team, his new friends, his new life, Gene’s respect, his own. He’d given everything away to get ahead. To make the collar and do his part. Now he was here, lying on the floor in a shitty flat and wishing the bullet had been meant for him instead. Let Maya live with her guilt. Or her lack of it. Sam would have willingly died just then to atone for it all. Instead he curled up, sobbing, and waited for the sun to rise or the whisky to knock him unconscious.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

“Forensics,” he heard the voice on the other end of the phone. “Dr. Cynthia Baxter. How can I help you?” 

“Cynthia?” Sam slurred. 

“Sam?” 

“Cynthia,” he swallowed. “One day you’re going to be in charge of everything. You’re a genius and the police department doesn’t deserve you. Don’t let Gene Hunt wear you down and destroy that.” 

“Sam?” Her voice was sharper now. “Are you all right? Have you been drinking?” 

“Cynthia,” he slurred again as he finished neatening the tiny desk next to his bed. “You’re husband is a prick. He’s never deserved you and I’m telling you right now the paralegal he gets in 2004 is a whore with sphyllis. When he tells you there’s nothing going on he’s lying. Don’t believe him and definitely don’t fuck him. You won’t find out for another year that he’s made you sick and by that time it’ll have done so much damage to your health that you’ll be forced to take retirement. Cynthia believe me, you’re better off with anyone - including Gene Hunt - then that lying bastard you’ve got now.” 

“Sam! You’re drunk.” She announced. “And I’m hanging up now.” 

Sam looked at the receiver blankly then as it cut off. She’d hung up on him! Didn’t matter, he thought. At least she knew. He’d told her. That was all that mattered. One day she’d realize the crazy DI she’d met in 1973 had been right. Hopefully she’d realize it before it was too late. 

Sam looked at the desk again. All in order. Note explaining everything to Annie. Apologizing for this. One last chance to show her that he really was from the future so he decided to tell her, prophesy almost, everything he could remember that would happen over the next 33 years. Politics, stock tips, sports bets, everything, anything that over time she’d pull out the note and check things off and realize that he’d been right. He hadn’t been insane. 

Formal recommendation for Ray to take his position as DI. Someone who could work better with Gene. The DI Gene wanted. A man he wouldn’t have to punch to get his point across. Ray had learned a lot since Sam had been there. With Gene’s guidance he’d become a tolerable DI. Would have preferred to nominate Annie for the post but why waste the paper when they wouldn’t give it to her? 

List of gadgets that Chris shouldn’t waste his money on. Sam smiled to himself. Things he should get and hang on to. Chris was going to love Space Invaders, Sam thought. Sam almost hoped he wasn’t married when Atari came out. The poor woman would be essentially single if he was. Tomb Raider, Sam thought. He’ll be one of those dirty old men playing the training exercises on Tomb Raider over and over again just to watch Lara Croft’s arse in those shorts. 

Gene, Sam frowned at the pile again. What would he have said to Gene? How could he explain? He couldn’t, Sam decided again. No way that Gene would understand. Probably wouldn’t read the note anyway. Too angry at Sam for what he’d done. If he even cared enough to read it at all. 

No, Sam thought to himself. That wasn’t fair. Gene would care. He’d be angry and if Sam left a note he’d read it. Would read it over and over trying to understand. He wasn’t writing Gene a note because he didn’t know how to explain. Didn’t know what to say. 

Grabbing the bottle of scotch by the neck he reached for his jacket. Slid into it and out the door. Didn’t bother locking it. Wouldn’t matter, Gene still just kicked it in. Refused to open it like a normal person, even though he had a key. 

On the roof Sam looked around Manchester and raised the bottle to his lips. Mess of a city, Sam thought to himself. Fabulous, wonderful, home. You’re going to lose all your character and turn grey and antiseptic, generic, before you even realize it. Then you’ll suck just like everywhere else does. You’ve got a couple good years coming though. Enjoy ‘em while you can, Sam laughed. The ship’s sinking fast. 

Stepping to the edge closest to the alley Sam took another drink and then looked at the bottle ruefully. “Chelsea,” he said softly. “You’re not even born yet you realize that? And I’m not religious. So the fact that I’m praying to you right now is just a touch past fucked up.” He laughed then. “However the whole time line of things go,” he started again. “I’m sorry for everything Chelsea. Sorry I was such an ambitious, career driven prick who couldn’t see that the harpy I was living with was fucking me over.” 

“There’s,” he started and took another swig. “There’s this stupid American movie. You probably never saw it. Who knows though? You always had out there taste in stuff. Anyway, stupid American movie with that comedian French Stewart called Love Stinks. He tells this guy in it to be careful of French Stewart’s ex girlfriend because if she had her hands in his pants she was only distracting him while she stole his wallet. Thought it was hilarious when I saw it. Too stupid to realize when Maya was doing it to me. Fucking me six ways till Sunday so she could make a grab for my badge.” 

“Why am I telling you this?” Sam laughed. “You couldn’t care less and I am screwing this up seriously.” He threw his arms out wildly. “I can’t even apologize to you right Chelsea! I just keep fucking up when it comes to you. If I could do it all over again I’d go strangle myself before you ever set foot in my office that day. That’s what I’ll do then Chelsea. In 32 years I’ll go kidnap myself and shove my stupid arse in a closet. Sit in my own desk and tell you you’re a lousy copper. Tell you that I’m having you brought up on report for having a drink with a criminal. Piss you off enough so that you just walk out. Take that damn job in London. Which while we’re on the subject - were you insane? You know I found the employment papers they’d sent to your flat. The final contract. I saw how much they were going to pay you. Called them to see if there had been a mistake. Claimed it was part of the investigation. I’d have told me to fuck off for that kind of money and I’m a career driven prick who’s never wanted to do anything besides be a copper.”   
“Chelsea,” he was serious then. “God, Chelsea I’m sorry. If you know nothing else know that Chelsea. I mean I don’t know where you are. If you’re born or if you’re dead or what but just know that Chelsea. I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to you. I’m going to try and change it though. Try to make it right for you.”   
He took another drink and smirked then. “Best do my Gene Hunt impression and get on with it then huh?” He dropped the bottle over the side and watched as it shattered on the ground beneath him. “Ugh,” Sam shook his head and wondered idly if that was how he’d looked when, his mind still shied away from the thought. If that was what he’d looked like after his flying leap off the police station. 

“I would never waste a good bottle of scotch like that,” a voice announced behind him. “So I guess you need to practice that impression some more.” 

Sam spun around and looked at him. “Gene? What are you doing here?” 

“Sam,” Cynthia was behind Gene and Sam could see the fear in her eyes. “Sam please step away from that ledge.” 

“Huh?” Sam asked. “What are you doing here Gene?” 

“Cindyloo called me at home. Said you called her and got mouthy Sam. Told her I’d come over and sort you out. So step away from that ledge so I can beat the hell out of you for being a bastard to our forensics girl.” 

“Fuck you Gene,” Sam laughed. “You’re going to beat the hell out of me for doing something you do all the time? That’s real rich.” 

“Sam,” Cynthia broke in. “Forget Gene. Just talk to me. Tell me what you know. If my old man’s being a creep you need to tell me all about it. That’s why you called isn’t it? You want to help me.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Cynthia he’s going to ruin your life. You’ve got so much going for you and he’s just going to stamp all over it. He’s going to just destroy you.” 

“How do you know Sam?” 

“I can’t explain,” Sam was cut off by the crushing arms around his shoulders, pinning his arms to his side. Gene had snuck around behind him while he was focused on Cynthia and was now dragging him away from the edge. 

“Gene what are you doing?” 

“Stupid bastard,” Gene announced. “Absolutely stupid, ignorant, bloody, git! I should throw you off myself.” 

“What are you going on about?” Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against Gene’s chest, hoping he’d loosen his grip before he crushed Sam’s ribs. 

“You weren’t even going to explain it to me. Everyone else got a good bye but me. Notes for Annie and Chris. Recommendation for Ray. Called Cynthia. What do I get? Fuck you Gene. Thought I deserved more than that Sammy. So you can’t jump until you explain it to my face and if I don’t think it’s a good enough reason I’m going to toss you off the building myself.” 

“What?” Sam shook his head and looked over at Cynthia, wondering if this made sense to her. “I didn’t intend to jump Gene.” 

“What?” The arms tightened. 

“Not jumping,” Sam repeated. 

“So why are you on the roof?” 

“My flat’s stuffy. I used to come out here all the time to think. Fresh air helps me relax.” 

“So what were you planning that you were leaving notes and saying good byes?” 

“I’m going to kill Rajeem Assad.” Sam said bluntly. “You’re right. I can’t prove Rajeem Assad’s guilty of murder. I can’t stop him from doing the things I know he’s going to do by using the law. So I decided to handle this myself. He’s out on bail. I know where he’s at. Let me take care of this Gene.” 

“The good bye notes?” Cynthia broke in. 

“Assad’s got bodyguards,” Gene broke in. “Sammy here could probably take Assad but he’s not walking out of there alive. Are you Sammy? Gonna be a hero and take as many with you as possible? Aren’t you? Either that or he was planning on running afterwards.” 

“Just want Assad,” Sam answered. “He’s all I care about.” 

“So you were going to run?” Gene asked. “What about me? No good bye for me?” 

“Thought I’d send you a postcard in a few months when I got settled.” Sam lied. He hadn’t actually expected to make it out of Assad’s townhouse alive. If he had then he’d a rough plan cobbled together. Thought he’d try his luck in Mexico. Hadn’t expected to need it though. 

“Check his jacket for a gun.” Gene nodded to Cynthia. Sam felt warm hands running up his chest and finding the shoulder holster. Gun being taken, watched her check to see that it was loaded. “Take it and go down to the Cortina.” Gene told her sternly. 

“Yes Guv,” she answered. 

Once she was gone Sam felt himself being swung around in Gene’s arms. “What?” He stammered before lips were crushing against his own. A tongue being forced into his mouth. 

“I should kill you myself you crazy bastard,” Gene announced. 

“Gene,” he tried to push away from him. Nothing the man could say now would matter. 

“Rajeem Assad shot another drug dealer yesterday afternoon. Ton of witnesses.”

“What?” 

“Didn’t even need him to confess. Shot him in broad daylight on a busy street. Cut a deal. He’s going away for life. Same amount of time he’d get for Myra Tiggs. I made sure of it.” 

“Gene,” he sighed. “It won’t change anything. He’ll get out.” 

“No Sam,” Gene shook his head. “I’ve already talked to the warden. They aren’t going to let him out Sam. And if they do we’ll keep blocking it.”

“Ok,” Sam nodded weakly. 

“Let’s get off this roof then Sam.” 

“Can I come back to work?”

“No,” Gene answered. “I’ve already arranged both of us a few days off. Rathbone is more than happy to give us some time after two high profile cases. Especially when he found out about your conversations with Kimberly Withers. Suggested that my overworked DI and I might want to take ourselves each a bit of a holiday. Told him we were taking a bachelor’s weekend to Blackpool. Soak up the sun, look at the girls.” 

 

“Kimberly Withers?” Sam asked as Gene pulled him down the steps. 

“Kimberly,” Gene answered. “The prozzie you let destroy my Cortina?” 

“That’s Kimberly Withers?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah why? Last name mean something to you.” 

“I have a feeling it might one day Gene,” Sam smiled. He wondered how Litton would feel when news of her affair broke in 25 years. Probably go bragging about how he’d gotten her first. Screwed the same girl that a member of the cabinet was. Sam didn’t put it past Litton at all. 

When they reached the street he saw Cynthia leaning against the Cortina warily. “I’m sorry,” Sam said truthfully. 

“Don’t be,” she hugged him then. “Always prefer to know the truth. Just promise me something?” 

“What?”

“I hate heights. So from now on can we skip the trips onto your roof? I don’t want to have to scrape you up Sam. It’s messy business.” 

“When the time comes Cynthia,” he whispered into her shoulder. “You’re not allowed to do it. I don’t want you to see me that way. Stay in Brighton were it’s warm.” 

“Huh?” 

“Nothing,” Sam smiled shakily then. “I’ve just had too much to drink I think.” She’d understand when the time came. If need be he’d call to remind her. 

“So?” Sam looked at Gene. “Blackpool? Bachelor’s weekend?” 

“Um? Excuse me?” Cynthia asked. “You are going to take me back to the station first. Right?” 

“You don’t want to come along?” Gene laughed. 

“Do I look like a bachelor?” She retorted. 

“Nicest tits I’ve ever seen on one,” Gene quipped. 

“Seen many bachelor’s with tits?” 

“Tons,” Gene replied. “Hairy too. Can’t blame a bird for not wanting to marry a man that looks like that.” 

Sam laughed then. Things would be all right. They’d keep Rajeem inside for the rest of his life. He’d never get out to harm Chelsea. Maya, he felt his chest tighten at the thought. Best not to think about Maya. In the future Chelsea would be safe. Rajeem would never get to her. She’d be alive and Sam Tyler would be nothing but another prick who didn’t appreciate her that she left behind. 

“I need to go in for a minute,” Gene said when they reached the station. “Come with me?” 

“Course,” Sam agreed. “I need to check my gun back in at the armory if we’re going out of town.” 

“Right,” Gene nodded. 

Inside they split up. Cynthia to the forensics lab, Gene to his office and Sam moved toward the armory. “Excuse me?” A man in his early 20’s called out as he saw Sam pass, leaving the armory and going upstairs to CID. 

“Can I help you?” Sam asked. 

“I’m here to see about my uncle.” The man answered. 

“Name?” Sam asked as he stepped around the desk and looked at the log.

“Rajeem Hussein Assad.” The young man said clearly. 

“Due for transport later this afternoon,” Sam answered and tried to keep his smile clamped down. “If you’re family we can arrange a supervised visit before then. Give me your name.” 

“Rajeem Feisal Assad.” Sam’s head shot up suddenly. Rajeem Feisal. Rajeem Feisal. Assad had gone to ground for a few years in the 1970’s. His gang worked small time deals. Sam had just assumed it was because he was banged up. No, he closed his eyes. No police record. They’d never found out why there was a gap. 

He ages well,” DC Hendricks laughed while they were briefing Chelsea. “Should be 60 years old. Barely looks a day over 45.” 

“Some of us are just lucky,” she retorted and took a sip of her tea. “You’d be amazed what you can get done looking ten years younger than you really are.” 

“You,” Sam suddenly realized. “It’s not your uncle that’s the murdering swine of the family. It’s you!” He reached out and grabbed the man by his suit lapels. “You bastard!” He gave him a shake. “You murdering fucking bastard!” 

“Sam!” he heard Gene’s voice above him. “Let him go.” 

Instead of letting him go Sam pulled the man further across the desk until they were only a hair’s breathe apart. “One day you will meet Chelsea Wainright you sick fuck,” he hissed. “When you do, steer clear of her. Because if you hurt her,” Sam looked the other man in the eyes. “If you hurt her I will kill you.” 

“Sam!” Gene snapped again and Sam released Rajeem abruptly, putting his hands in the air so that Gene could see them. 

“Get the hell out of my station,” Sam snarled. “Don’t give me a reason to arrest you.” 

“What the hell was that?” Gene asked as he came up behind Sam and watched the man stumble out of the front door and down the steps. 

“You ever see anyone and know that later, much later, you were going to wish you’d just handled them when you had the chance?” 

“Every day Sam,” Gene sighed and leaned over to ruffle his hair. “Everyday I wonder why I didn’t leave you tied up to the bedpost at home.” 

“Thanks Gene,” Sam shook his head. “Good to know you take things seriously.” 

“We’ll keep an eye on him Sam,” Gene promised then. “If he does something.” 

“When,” Sam corrected. 

“When he does something Sam,” Gene stressed. “We’ll get him. Take him apart piece by piece. The two of us.” 

“Right,” Sam agreed. “The two of us.” 

“You know Sam,” Chelsea smiled as she took a sip of her latte. “One day you’re going to have to let go of some of that control and just trust somebody.” 

“You think so? Think I can’t trust anyone?” 

“Name one person you trust Sam.” 

“I trust you. You could bring my whole department down around my ears and I still trust you.” Sam said honestly. 

“That’s not what I meant Sam.” She smiled. “One day you’re going to have to open up and trust someone with all Sam Tyler’s weaknesses. All his vulnerabilities. Trust someone else to hold you up when you can’t do it yourself.” 

“Really?” Sam laughed. 

“Yeah and man I hope I’m somewhere else when that happens.” 

“Why’s that? Don’t want to watch?” 

“You better believe it. It’s going to be World War III when you finally give up and learn to trust someone else Sam. Hopefully whoever they are - they’re strong enough to fight you for your own sake.”


End file.
